MEMORIES 
DISCREET  & 
INDISCREET 

By 
A  WOMAN  OF  NO 
IMPORTANCE 


THE  LIBRARY 

OF 

THE  UNIVERSITY 

OF  CALIFORNIA 

GET  OF 


Louisiana  Scott  Shuman 


i,' 


MEMORIES  DISCREET  AND  INDISCREET 


MR.    CHARLES   I'AK.>i!,Li. 
The  last  photograph  taken  of  him 


MEMORIES 

DISCREET  AND 
INDISCREET 

BY 

A  WOMAN  OF  NO 
IMPORTANCE 

ILLUSTRATED 


NEW   YORK 
E.   P.    DUTTON    &    COMPANY 
68 1   Fifth  Avenue 


TO   THE   MEMORY 

OF   THOSE  WHO   HAVE  GONE 

I   WITH   AFFECTION 

DEDICATE    MY    BOOK 


LOAN  STACK 
GIFT 


PRINTED   BV    WM,    BRENDON    AND  SON,    LTD.,    PLYMOUTH,    ENGLAND 


DA56S 


FOREWORD 

I   HAVE  many  times  been  asked  to  write  some  of 
my  recollections  and  experiences.      I   fear  there  is 
little  of  importance  to  recount  of  myself  beyond  the 
fact  that  I  have  met  many  interesting  people,  and  am 
proud  to  have  known  some  of  the  greatest  empire  and 
history  makers  of  the  century. 

Taking  a  bird's-eye  view  of  my  life  as  far  as  it  has 
gone,  what  stands  out  pre-eminently  is  the  number  and 
kindness  of  my  friends.  In  this  world  of  hurry,  where 
we  are  all  either  hastening  into  or  out  of  it,  sometimes 
it  is  pleasant  to  recall,  and  metaphorically  sit  down  and 
converse  with  our  friends  of  the  past. 

A  Woman  of  No  Importance. 


CONTENTS 


I.  Early  Memories 

II.  A  Secret  Engagement    . 

III.  The  Serbian  Tragedy     . 

IV.  A  Cardinal  and  a  Canal 
V.  India  and  Some  Generals 

VI.  Stories  from  Majuba 

VII.  Two  Great  Soldiers 

VIII.  The  Afghan  War 

IX.  Bay  Middleton  . 

X.  The  Prince's  Button-hole 

XI.  Sir  Donald  Stewart 

XII.  Off  to  Egypt 

XIII.  Lord  Kitchener 

XIV.  Some  Egyptian  Experiences 
XV.  Some  Generals  and  Battles 

XVI.  Lord  Cromer  and  Sir  Gerald  Portal 

XVII.  A  War  Correspondent's  Stories 

XVIII.  The  Tennysons  and  Others 

XIX.  Mr.  James  Lowther 

XX.  Victorian  Worthies 

XXI.  Lord  Roberts     . 

XXII.  A  Mixed  Bag      . 


PAGE 
II 

31 

44 
61 
71 
83 
98 

114 
139 
148 
165 
180 
196 
211 
224 

235 
250 
265 
283 
295 
313 
327 


ILLUSTRATIONS 


NTr.  Charles  Parneli,  (the  last  photograph  taken  of  him) 


Frontisftiece 


TO   FACE   PAGE 

Lady  Lina  and  Lauy  May  Ci-kmenis  (now  Lady  Lina  Lyndon  and 


Lady  May  Mostyn)  .... 

Lord  Kenyon  ..... 

Mrs.  Violet  Tweedale  at  Queen  Draga's  Grave 
Sir  John  Evvart         ..... 
Sir  Ian  Hamilton      ..... 
Lady  Ian  Hamilton   ..... 
General  Sir  Charles  Douglas 

Lady  Douglas  ..... 

Sir  John  Ardagh       ..... 
SosAN,  Countess  of  Malmksbury — Lady  Ardagh 
Lord  Cromer  ..... 

Sir  Gerald  Portal  (in  dress  presented  to  him  by  King  ot  Abyssinia) 
Mr.  Melton  Prior     ..... 
Sir  Edward  Bradford  .... 

Sir  Nevili.i:  Chamberlain        .... 
General  Cecil  Park  .... 


14 

14 

50 

76 

88 

96 

102 

106 

226 

230 

236 

240 

250 

300 

314 

320 


MEMORIES    DISCREET 
AND    INDISCREET 


CHAPTER  I 

EARLY   MEMORIES 

Early  Childhood — Scene  in  Church — The  Rev.  and  Hon.  Francis 
Clements — His  Daughters  and  I  Invent  a  Sermon — I  Preach  it — 
The  Rev.  William  Gooch,  Canon  of  York — His  Coach  and  Four 
— Mad  Hatter  Era — An  Economical  Friend  Shares  his  Hat  with  a 
Scarecrow — The  Muffin-girl  Fined — Who  Paid  the  Fine  ? — Another 
Eccentric  Who  Spent  His  Time  in  Bed — Lord  Kenyon  as  Chorister 
— The  Snuff-taking  Marquess  of  Londonderry — A  Ride  on  His 
Back — The  Duchess  of  Teck  and  "  My  Little  Girl  " — I  Appear  as  a 
Brilliant  Scholar — Mr.  Christopher  Sykes  and  His  Valet  at  Sand- 
ringham — The  Valet's  Advice  to  the  Prince  of  Wales — To  a  nouveau- 
riche — Helps  a  Favourite — The  Hambros  of  Steephill  Castle — 
Their  Son's  Mysterious  Death — The  Monson  Trial — The  Captain — 
Lord  Suffield  Goes  to  Market — Captain  Cowper-Coles — His  Gal- 
lantry— ^The  Fate  of  His  Invention. 

I    FEEL  I   should  like    to   begin  this  book   with 
''  once  upon  a  time/'   as  I  used    to   start    the 
stories  I  began  but  never  finished  in  my  early 
childhood. 

Some  of  my  farthest-reaching  recollections  are  in 
connection  with  my  spiritual  welfare,  which  appeared 
to  be  of  absorbing  interest  to  quite  a  number  of 
people.  Part  of  the  Sunday  discipline  consisted  of  my 
being  taken  when  a  very  small  person  to  church  in  a 
much-starched  and  exceedingly  stiff  frock,  tight  in 
the  arm-holes,  and  in  every  way  uncomfortable.  In 
this  garb  I  was  expected  to  sit  still  during  the  long, 
tedious  service.  One  Sunday  this  got  upon  my  nerves, 
and  while  the  clergyman  in  a  black  robe  preached  a 
long  sermon  from  a  three-decker  pulpit,   giving  his 

II 


12  MEMORIES  DISCREET  AND  INDISCREET 

congregation  to  understand  they  were  all  doomed  to 
everlasting  torture,  the  deliverer  of  this  unsporting 
harangue  turned  round,  pointing  his  finger  at  the  part 
of  the  church  where  I  happened  to  be.  Thinking  this 
a  personal  matter  and  somebody  dropping  a  book  at 
the  exact  moment  I  gave  a  loud  scream,  then,  fright- 
ened at  the  result  of  my  breakdown,  I  burst  into  tears. 
My  father  peered  at  me  over  the  top  of  his  spectacles 
with  interrogating  eyes,  the  congregation  stared,  and 
my  mother's  face  grew  long,  foreboding  trouble  in  the 
near  future. 

On  another  occasion  when  staying  with  some 
friends  a  few  miles  from  home,  I  was  asked  by  my 
host,  a  clergyman,  if  I  could  tell  him  what  his  sermon 
had  been  about  that  morning  in  church.  I  had  not 
the  faintest  idea,  but  remembered  the  name  of  Jehovah 
being  mentioned  several  times,  so  suggested  that  was 
the  subject  of  his  sermon,  only  to  be  told  he  feared 
I  could  not  have  been  attending.  I  was  put  down 
from  his  knee  and  told  to  try  to  remember.  His 
two  daughters  were  then  called  and  asked  the  same 
question.  They  too  were  unable  to  tell  their  parent 
anything  about  it,  so  we  were  all  bundled  off  to  the 
schoolroom  to  remember  and  return  when  we  had 
recalled  it. 

The  Rev.  and  Hon.  Francis  Clements  was  the 
preacher  on  this  last  occasion,  at  that  time  Rector  of  Nor- 
ton, near  Stockton-on-Tees.  His  two  youngest  daughters 
were  somewhere  about  the  same  age  as  my  sister  and 
I,  and  were  among  our  most  intimate  play-fellows. 
At  that  time  Mr.  Clements'  elder  brother,  the  third 
Earl  of  Leitrim,  was  alive  but  had  no  heir  ;  it  will  be 
remembered  he  was  murdered,  and  our  friend's  son 
Robert  became  the  fourth  Earl,  and  his  sisters  were 
granted  the  rank  and  precedence  of  earl's  daughters, 
so  our  playmates  became  Lady  Selina  and  Lady 
May. 

In  the  schoolroom  we  found  the  governess,  who  told 
us  the  text,  and  we  three  girls  between  us  invented 
what  we  thought  a  choice  and  telling  sermon.    We  all 


EARLY  MEMORIES  13 

agreed  to  preach  the  same,  feehng  Mr.  Clements  could 
hardly  stick  to  his  version  with  three  of  us  against  him, 
so  quite  gaily  we  set  off  to  find  him.  The  ruse  was  a 
failure  as  our  host  had  his  own  ideas  on  the  value  of 
evidence. 

I  always  enjoyed  my  visits  to  the  Clements.  My 
two  young  friends  of  those  days  are  now  Lady  Selina 
Lyndon  and  Lady  May  Mostyn. 

I  have  heard  people  speak  of  their  childhood  as  the 
happiest  time  of  their  lives.  Mine  certainly  was  not ; 
I  was  always  in  trouble  with  my  mother  and  gover- 
nesses, being  much  too  fond  of  the  open  air,  horses 
and  dogs,  for  which  I  confess  I  was  apt  to  neglect  my 
lessons,  also  at  times  upset  the  household  by  being 
unpunctual,  thereby  causing  ructions. 

My  people  lived  in  Yorkshire,  and  there  it  was  most 
of  my  childhood  was  spent.  My  father  was  a  good 
shot  and  keen  fisherman,  spending  most  of  his  time 
on  his  own  property,  attending  magistrates'  meetings 
and  useful  country-side  things  of  that  kind,  having 
by  profession  been  called  to  the  Bar. 

My  mother  was  the  daughter  of  one  of  the  old 
school  of  dignified,  sporting  parsons.  I  remember  the 
awe  he  inspired  in  us  children ;  he  was  very  handsome, 
tall,  well-built  and  pompous  to  a  degree.  He  lived 
in  great  state,  driving  about  the  country,  to  York  to 
stay  at  Bishopthorpe,  to  Wynyard  to  stay  with  the 
Londonderrys,  in  fact  wherever  he  went  it  was  in  his 
coach  and  four.  He  was  rather  a  pretty  whip,  I 
remember.  We  were  almost  as  much  in  awe  of  his 
valet,  without  whom  he  never  moved,  as  of  him. 
The  valet  also  was  a  very  pompous  and  imposing 
person  who  gave  everybody  to  understand  he  had 
always  lived  amongst  the  **  hupper  circles." 

There  were  four  of  us  children.  My  grandfather  on 
my  father's  side,  who  was  a  very  rich  old  man,  had 
informed  his  son  that  if  there  were  more  than  four 
children  he  would  be  unable  to  leave  them  fortunes ; 
so  four  there  were  and  no  more.  I  am  one  of  them  and 
named  after  an  old  maiden  great-aunt,  who  it  was 


14     MEMORIES  DISCREET  AND  INDISCREET 

believed  would  leave  me  her  money,  which,  by  the 
way,  nearly  miscarried,  for  she  one  day  heard  someone 
speak  of  me  by  a  pet  name  instead  of  by  hers,  so  she 
said  under  the  circumstances  she  would  leave  her 
money  to  her  maid  :  but  a  kind  friend  of  the  family 
put  matters  straight  by  talking  incessantly  of  me  by 
the  name  she  knew  and  approved  and  by  advising  my 
people  to  take  me  over  at  intervals  and  to  be  sure  and 
call  me  by  my  formal  name  before  the  old  lady.  This 
was  done,  and  I  remember  being  given  pieces  of  sugar 
to  eat,  taken  from  between  the  bars  of  the  canary 
bird's-cage  ;  and  when  in  an  extra  fit  of  economy  and 
saving,  which  was  one  of  her  characteristics,  she, 
during  her  maid's  absence,  tried  to  put  out  her  bed- 
room fire,  which  she  considered  extravagantly  large, 
and  in  so  doing  set  fire  to  herself  and  was  burnt  to 
death,  she  left  some  of  her  money  to  me  ! 

Eccentricity  was  fashionable  in  those  days.  It  was 
in  fact  the  last  quarter  of  the  Mad  Hatter  Era.  Just 
as  ladies  fainted  at  the  slightest  provocation,  so  men 
allowed  themselves  to  develop  oddities  of  character 
with  the  utmost  complacency,  and  my  relations  were 
no  exception  to  the  prevailing  fashion.  In  our  part 
of  Yorkshire,  all  had  a  leaning  towards  the  weirdest 
forms  of  economy,  while  occasionally  bursting  forth 
into  unnecessary  extravagance.  My  father  would  be 
seriously  worried  if  we  came  home  from  the  station  by 
the  best  road,  and  the  shortest  by  a  mile,  because  there 
was  a  turnpike  and  sixpence  per  horse  to  pay,  but 
would  think  nothing  of  spending  a  hundred  pounds 
on  a  bracelet  that  my  mother  did  not  want. 

It  was  very  funny  the  way  my  father  used  to 
adjudicate  on  the  bench.  Having  been  a  barrister  he 
knew  more  law  than  most  of  his  fellow  magistrates, 
and  I  have  always  heard  he  was  extremely  just,  but 
when  off  the  seat  of  justice  his  heart  would  relent 
towards  some  of  the  culprits  he  had  punished.  There 
was  a  little  muffin-girl  who  used  to  tramp  about  the 
country  from  house  to  house  ostensibly  selling  muffins, 
but  often  combining  it  with  helping  herself  to  what- 


EARLY  MEMORIES  15 

ever  she  could  lay  her  hands  on  while  the  servants 
were  busy.  She  was  good-looking  and  had  a  winsome 
manner,  but  was  perpetually  being  brought  up  for 
stealing.  On  one  occasion  she  had  been  ordered  to  pay 
a  fine  of  half  a  crown.  The  young  woman,  who 
thoroughly  understood  her  business,  wept  and  declared 
that  was  all  she  had  made  during  the  week  after 
walking  miles.  The  bench  was  relentless,  but  while 
driving  home  my  father  passed  the  girl  tramping  the 
high  road  without  shoes  or  stockings,  so  he  stopped 
the  family  omnibus  in  which  he  always  attended 
magistrates'  meetings,  gave  her  a  lift  and  presented 
her  with  half  a  crown  ! 

A  neighbour  of  ours  living  at  Acklam  Hall,  a  Mr. 
Hustler,  was  a  prince  of  eccentrics.  First  of  all  he 
made  a  romantic  match  by  running  away  with  a  girl 
from  school  and  marrying  her.  He  then  settled  down 
on  his  estate,  where  he  would  retire  to  bed  for  weeks 
and  months  at  a  time,  his  only  amusement  being 
keeping  his  accounts  and  seeing  how  he  could  cut  down 
expenses,  although  he  was  a  rich  man.  At  long 
intervals  he  would  surprise  the  country-side  by 
blossoming  forth  pink  and  exotic-looking  from  his  hot- 
house treatment,  and  go  to  church,  or  perhaps  a 
magistrates'  meeting.  During  his  retirement  all  that 
was  ever  seen  of  him  was  an  occasional  vision  of  pink 
legs  flying  past  the  banisters  on  the  landing  while 
people  were  calling  on  his  wife.  He  was  very  curious 
to  know  who  the  callers  were,  so  as  soon  as  the  front- 
door bell  rang,  he  would  pop  out  of  bed  and  take  a 
fleeting  glance  at  them  from  the  top  of  the  stairs. 

Another  eccentric  was  a  man  called  Rudd,  an  old 
bachelor  who  ran  away  when  anybody  looked  at  him. 
Although  well  off  and  living  on  a  snug  little  property 
of  his  own  he  never  allowed  tradesmen  to  call  for 
orders  nor  would  he  allow  his  servants  to  make  any 
purchases.  Once  a  week  he  would  sally  forth  about 
dark  with  a  large  market-basket  on  his  arm  and  buy 
provisions.  My  father  loved  to  tease  the  poor  little 
man,  who  was  really  rather  clever,  and  elected  to  live 


i6     MEMORIES  DISCREET  AND  INDISCREET 

undisturbed  among  his  books.  Father  would  say, 
"  Jacky,  it  is  not  good  for  you  burying  yourself  like 
this;  I  shall  come  and  see  you/'  Jacky,  who  stood 
about  four  foot  nothing  and  had  several  angry- 
looking  bristles  growing  from  the  end  of  his  nose, 
would  then  become  furious  and  splutter  that  he  did  not 
want  to  see  anyone,  that  he  would  padlock  his  gate, 
and  so  on.  My  father  would  continue  to  tease  him, 
saying  he  would  climb  the  gate,  Jacky  taking  it  all 
quite  seriously  and  foaming  with  rage.  He  was  very 
short-sighted,  wore  huge  goggles  and  a  hat  two  sizes 
too  large  for  him,  which  latter  he  actually  shared  with 
the  scarecrow  in  the  garden. 

In  those  days  families  emigrated  en  masse  in  the 
summer  to  some  near  seaside  place  while  the  hay- 
making was  in  progress.  We  went  regularly  to  Redcar, 
where  there  was  excellent  bathing  :  and  a  great  gather- 
ing we  used  to  be  of  friends  and  relations,  amongst 
them  a  number  of  amusing  Rivett-Carnacs,  Agnes  de 
Crespigny,  sister  of  the  present  Sir  Claude,  the  well- 
known  sportsman  ;  Lloyd  Kenyon,  then  a  delicate 
little  boy,  who  sang  in  the  choir  and  looked  very  good, 
now  A.D.C.  to  King  George  and  formerly  Lord  in 
Waiting  to  Queen  Victoria  ;  besides  other  friends  too 
numerous  to  mention. 

I  remember  seeing  Lord  Kenyon  in  his  cassock 
looking  like  a  cherub  in  the  church  choir  at  Coatham 
(which  is  a  suburb  of  Redcar),  little  boys  in  front, 
big  boys  behind,  then  the  clergy.  Lloyd's  mother  was 
delightful  and  I  was  fond  of  her.  She  was  very  High 
Church  and  a  really  good  woman,  most  anxious  to 
bring  up  her  son  in  the  way  he  should  go,  and  he  was 
a  very  devout  little  boy  ;  I  remember  his  crying  one 
evening  because  his  mother  told  him  to  stay  and  play 
with  us  instead  of  going  to  evensong. 

Being  an  only  son  his  mother  feared  his  being  spoilt, 
so  Agnes  de  Crespigny  used  to  stay  with  her  for 
months  at  a  time  as  playmate  for  him,  and  all  of  them 
used  to  stay  with  us  a  great  deal.  Agnes,  by  the  way, 
married  the  vicar  of  Coatham  Church  in  later  years,  and 


EARLY  MEMORIES  17 

I  saw  a  short  time  ago  that  she  has  to  mourn  the  loss 
of  her  son  in  this  ghastly  war. 

Those  were  the  days  of  long  journeys,  and  anxieties 
arising  from  the  fear  that  the  roads  might  be  im- 
passable, which  in  the  winter  was  by  no  means 
uncommon.  One  winter,  when  the  roads  were  covered 
with  snow,  we  were  hoping  to  go  to  stay  at  Wynyard 
for  a  children's  ball.  First  we  were  told  it  would  be 
impossible  to  drive  the  twenty-five  miles :  I  think  that 
was  the  distance.  Later  we  heard  that  our  father  meant 
to  try. 

By  dint  of  frost  nails  in  the  horses'  shoes  we  reached 
Wynyard  after  an  exciting  drive  over  very  slippery 
roads  with  a  pair  of  spirited  black  Irish  horses.  My 
sister  caught  cold  on  the  journey  and  had  to  go  to  bed 
instead  of  enjoying  herself,  which  spoilt  my  pleasure 
to  a  great  extent.  This  visit  has  always  remained 
impressed  on  my  memory  for  two  reasons,  the  first 
being  while  we  were  playing  hide-and-seek  Lady 
Averina  Vane-Tempest  fainted,  and  never  having  seen 
anybody  faint,  I  thought  she  was  dead.  This  terrified 
me,  but  I  could  then  understand  her  governess's 
anxiety  all  the  time  she  was  playing,  for  fear  she 
should  get  too  hot  or  over-exert  herself. 

The  next  thing  that  makes  it  memorable  was  that 
I  experienced  one  of  the  proudest  moments  of  my  life 
one  day  at  luncheon.  It  must  be  remembered  these 
were  the  days  when  children  were  suppressed,  to  be 
seen  and  not  heard.  It  happened  this  way :  at 
luncheon  we  were  all  obliged  to  speak  French  as  Lady 
Londonderry  thought  it  good  practice  for  everybody. 
She  was  telling  us  to  be  sure  and  feed  the  birds  during 
the  frosty  weather,  then  wishing  to  say  something 
about  the  sparrows  and  not  being  able  to  remember 
the  French  for  that  particular  bird,  addressed  herself 
to  the  table  generally  and  asked  for  help.  Nobody 
knew.  Lady  Averina's  governess  got  red  in  the  face 
and  said  she  knew  quite  well,  but  for  the  moment  had 
forgotten.  It  so  happened  that  one  of  the  last  exercises 
I  had  done  before  leaving  home  had  included  the  word 


i8     MEMORIES  DISCREET  AND  INDISCREET 

sparrow,  so  frightened  at  my  own  daring  I  said, 
''*Moineau'  is  the  French  for  *  sparrow,'''  in  con- 
sequence of  which  astounding  knowledge  I  was  con- 
sidered a  clever  child,  profound  scholar  and  brilHant 
personage. 

Another  great  occasion  at  Wynyard  was  when 
Princess  Mary  of  Teck  was  staying  there  and  a  big  ball 
was  given  in  honour  of  the  occasion.  I,  in  company 
with  the  rest  of  the  young  people  staying  in  the 
house,  was  allowed  to  watch  all  the  big-wigs  march  in 
to  dinner,  after  which  we  were  carried  off  to  be  decked 
out  in  beautiful  sashes,  silk  stockings,  and  all  the  rest 
of  a  full-dress  evening  toilet.  Then  we  had  to  sit  still 
until  we  were  sent  for  to  go  down  to  dessert.  The  wait 
seemed  interminable,  but  at  last  we  were  summoned 
and,  walking  like  well-bred  ducks  in  single  file, 
followed  the  beautiful  footman  with  powdered  hair,  he 
glancing  at  himself  in  all  the  long  mirrors  he  passed  to 
see  if  his  silk  stockings  were  braced  up  enough  or  if 
any  of  the  powder  had  fallen  on  to  his  well-fitting 
livery. 

In  the  dining-room  we  all  made  profound  curtsies. 
We  were  then  assisted  on  to  high  stools  beside  our  host 
and  hostess.  My  place  was  near  Lord  Londonderry, 
who  heaped  all  sorts  of  good  things  on  my  plate  until 
the  Duchess  of  Teck  laughingly  said  I  should  be  ill  if 
I  ate  them  all.  I  could  not  help  staring  at  the  Duchess. 
She  had  such  a  sweet,  good-tempered  face,  and  when 
she  asked  me  if  it  was  not  my  bed-time  and  said  her 
little  girl  (our  present  Queen  Mary)  went  to  bed  much 
earlier,  I  wriggled  off  my  stool,  made  another  curtsy, 
and  replied,  **  Yes,  madam,  I  generally  go  to  bed  at 
half-past  eight,  but  this  is  a  great  treat."  I  then  tried 
to  scramble  on  to  my  high  stool  again,  and  was 
dismayed  to  find  every  time  I  tried  to  do  so,  it 
endeavoured  to  fall  on  top  of  me,  so  I  had  to  be 
lifted  up  by  Lord  Londonderry.  No  sooner  was  I 
seated  than  the  ladies  left  the  dining-room,  and  I  had 
no  time  to  eat  my  good  things.  I  suppose  I  was 
looking   ruefully   at   them   when   Lord   Londonderry 


EARLY  MEMORIES  19 

lifted  up  my  frock,  popped  into  it  a  bunch  of  grapes 
and  a  dish  of  chocolates,  telHng  me,  with  a  pat  on  my 
shoulder,  to  put  them  under  my  pillow.  The  others 
had  consumed  their  good  things  on  the  premises,  I  was 
the  only  lucky  one  with  something  for  under  my 
pillow. 

I  am  speaking  of  the  5th  Marquess  of  Londonderry, 
at  one  time  Vice-Commodore  of  the  Yacht  Squadron. 
I  think  yachting  and  snuff  were  his  two  greatest 
pleasures  in  life.  It  was  quite  fashionable  in  those 
days  to  take  snuff,  and  I  remember  once  when  he  was 
carrying  me  downstairs  on  his  back  his  taking  some 
which  made  me  sneeze  violently.  I  was  afraid  to  take 
my  arm  from  round  his  neck  so  spluttered  over  his 
back  hair,  much  to  his  amusement.  He  said  it  served 
him  right.  A  most  hospitable  host,  a  very  rich  man 
and  a  great  personage,  yet  simple  and  accessible  to  all. 
He  employed  a  vast  number  of  labourers  in  his  mines 
and  quarries.  At  that  time  I  remember  seeing  his 
name  on  railway  trucks,  but  do  not  remember  in  his 
life  seeing  it  on  the  coal  carts  and  lorries  in  London. 
That  became  the  fashion  in  the  late  Lord  London- 
derry's time,  the  6th  Marquess. 

Mr.  Christopher  Sykes,  of  Brantingham  Thorpe,  a 
well-known  Yorkshire  landowner,  whose  finances  were 
not  equal  to  the  strain  he  put  upon  them  while  enter- 
taining Royalty,  had  a  valet  who  gives  a  funny  story 
relating  to  the  Londonderrys,  at  least  his  way  of 
telHng  it  was  funny.  The  valet's  name  was  Girton, 
and  when  Mr.  Sykes  came  to  the  end  of  his  tether  he 
gave  his  servant  a  letter  that  would  have  carried  him 
anywhere,  a  really  kindly  and  first-rate  recommenda- 
tion. Girton  had  made  some  money  if  his  master  had 
not,  and  he  eventually  became  the  proprietor  of  a 
large  private  hotel,  never  mind  which,  but  it  was  much 
on  the  lines  of  the  great  Brown's  in  Albemarle  Street. 
Girton,  being  almost  as  well  known  in  society  as  Mr. 
Sykes  himself,  was  not  long  in  collecting  a  clientele, 
who  used  to  love  drawing  him  and  hearing  some  of  his 
astounding  accounts  of  proceedings  in  which  he  had 


20     MEMORIES  DISCREET  AND  INDISCREET 

either  taken  part  or  been  a  witness  during  his  Hfe 
amongst  the  famiUes  in  which  he  had  served.  One  of 
the  stories  he  was  very  fond  of  telling  was  when 
staying  at  Sandringham  with  Mr.  Sykes,  while  a  big 
shoot  was  going  on.  Either  when  walking  up,  or 
in  covert,  I  forget  which,  Mr.  Sykes,  anxious  that  the 
Prince  should  hear  some  of  Girton's  humour,  sent  for 
him,  at  any  rate  this  is  Girton's  story. 

The  Prince  :  ''  Oh,  Girton,  Londonderry  has  invited 
me  and  the  Princess  to  see  his  place  at  Wynyard,  and 
I  have  never  been  there." 

Girton  :  ''  Then  you  should  lose  no  chance,  your 
Royal  Tghness.'' 

The  Prince  :  ''  We  intend  going,  Girton.  How  do 
you  think  we  ought  to  get  there,  you  know  Yorkshire 
so  well.'' 

Girton  :  ''  Well,  your  Royal  Tghness,  there  are  two 
ways.  Yes,  there  are  two  ways,  one  is  to  go  all  the 
way  by  train,  but  if  you  asks  for  popularity,  I  says  get 
out  at  Middlesborough,  you  and  the  Princess.  From 
there  in  an  open  carriage  you  and  the  Princess  go  right 
away  to  Wynyard,  you  could  not  do  better.  It's  a  'ot 
bed  of  radicalism,  but  when  they  see  you  among  'em 
it  will  be  a  'ot  bed  of  conservatism." 

Another  story  of  Girton's  that  has  never  been  given 
to  the  public  before. 

A  certain  nouveau-riche  had  been  invited  to  dine 
with  Mr.  Sykes  to  meet  the  Prince  of  Wales,  who  had 
approved  the  name  on  the  list  submitted  for  his  Royal 
pleasure. 

The  gentleman  of  great  and  lately  acquired  wealth 
was  feeling  full  of  importance  though  a  trifle  nervous, 
not  knowing  exactly  the  usual  procedure  on  such 
occasions.  At  Doncaster  the  day  before  the  dinner  he 
chanced  to  see  the  great  Girton  putting  a  few  sovereigns 
on  a  horse  he  had  heard  Mr.  Jim  Lowther  say  would  be 
sure  to  win,  so  walking  up  to  him  said,  ''  Good  day, 
Girton.  I  am  dining  at  your  place  to-morrow  to  meet 
the  Prince  of  Wales;  you  are  more  accustomed  to 
Royalties  thaji  I  am,  tell  me  what  is  the  proper  thing 


EARLY  MEMORIES  21 

to  do  ?  Should  I  walk  up  to  the  Prince  and  say  '  How 
do  you  do '  ?  or  wait  for  him  to  speak  to  me  ?  or  ought 
I  to  go  down  on  one  knee  ?  " 

Girton :  "  Well,  Sir,  I  hought  to  know  all  about  these 
things  by  now,  but  they  requires  great  delicacy, — yes, 
great  delicacy/' 

Nouveau-riche  :  '*  Yes  !  of  course  I  know  all  that, 
but  tell  me,  do  I  shake  hands  or  bow  ?  " 

Girton:  **  That,  Sir,  depends  on  circumstances.  You 
will  be  introduced  to  his  Royal  Tghness,  he  may  hold 
out  'is  'and,  in  which  case  you  takes  it  gentle  like,  if  not, 
you  bow  like  this,"  here  Girton  laid  his  arm  across  his 
middle  and  bowed  low  over  it.  **  And  you  never  sits 
down  unless  the  Prince  says  you  may." 

Nouveau-riche  :  '*  What  !  should  I  have  to  stand  all 
the  evening  if  not  given  leave  to  sit  down  ?  " 

Girton  (in  superior  manner) :  ''  That  is  so,  many 
people  stand  all  day." 

Nouveau-riche :  "  But  look  here,  Girton,  how  could  I 
eat  my  dinner  standing  up  all  the  time  ?  and  would 
not  the  others  think  it  looked  as  if  the  Prince  did  not 
like  me,  if  he  told  the  others  to  sit  down  and  not  me  ?  " 

Girton  {with  a  lofty  smile) :  *'  I  should  not  worry 
myself.  Sir,  if  I  was  you,  it  will  come  quite  natural- 
like when  the  time  comes ;  his  Tghness  will  say  very 
quietly,  '  Pray  be  seated,'  and  everything  will  go  on 
quite  ordinary." 

I  have  been  told  the  Prince's  manner  and. way  of 
speaking  was  copied  exactly. 

It  was  amusing  the  way  this  valet  took  all  under 
his  wing  who  visited  his  master,  provided  they  were 
liberal  enough  to  him.  Mr.  Sykes  said,  *'  Girton 
makes  great  favourites."  One  of  these  favourites  was 
a  certain  well-known  sporting  baronet  living  in  the 
same  county  as  his  master,  who,  when  tired  of  home 
life,  would  tell  his  wife  he  was  going  to  buy  horses,  and 
then  go  and  entertain  some  of  his  theatrical  friends  at 
a  seaside  place  not  very  far  away. 

During  one  of  these  jaunts  Girton  and  his  master 
were  staying  in  the  same  hotel,  and  while  passing  the 


22     MEMORIES  DISCREET  AND  INDISCREET 

rooms  occupied  by  the  sportsman  and  his  friends,  none 
of  whom  were  yet  up  though  it  was  12.30  midday, 
he  saw  at  the  end  of  the  landing  the  baronet's  wife 

asking  the  number  of  the  room  occupied  by  Sir , 

and  the  simple  chambermaid  gave  the  number — 17. 

Girton   grasped   the   situation   in   a   moment   and 

asked  Lady if  he  could  help  her  to  find  the  room 

she  wanted.  She  told  him  she  wanted  her  husband's 
room,  No.  17. 

They  were  standing  almost  opposite  the  door  at  the 
time.     Without  a  blush  Girton  said,  "  I  think  it  is 

117  that  Sir is  occupying,  on  the  other  landing  ; 

allow  me  to  show  your  ladyship  the  way."  Having 
guided  her  to  the  door  of  117  he  fled  back  to  17  and 
informed  the  occupant  his  wife  was  looking  for  him. 

Meanwhile  Lady had  entered  117,  and  seeing  a 

rolled-up  figure  in  the  bed  evidently  fast  asleep,  who 
took  no  notice  of  her  wrathful  expressions,  she  pulled 
the  clothes  down  from  the  individuaFs  head  to  find  it 
was  a  man  she  knew  quite  well  in  the  3rd  Dragoon 
Guards  !  sleeping  off  a  late  night.  Thinking  it  was 
his  soldier-servant  trying  to  awaken  him  he  used  strong 
language  ! 

Girton  used  after  the  fashion  of  servants  always  to 
speak  of  ''  me  and  the  governor,"  meaning,  of  course, 
Mr.  Sykes,  his  master.  Some  of  his  stories,  which 
became  well  known  from  his  constant  repetition,  were 
distinctly  interesting,  not  to  say  frisky,  but  no  good 
purpose  would  now  be  served  by  recalling  them, 
dealing  as  they  did  with  most  of  the  country-side  in 
Yorkshire  and,  indeed,  elsewhere  also. 

But  to  return  to  my  youth.  My  governess  un- 
doubtedly found  me  a  tiresome  child,  and  regarded 
me  with  despair.  Once  when  my  sister  and  I  had 
been  told  to  prepare  a  map  of  Europe  for  the  following 
morning,  and  mine  was  presented  for  criticism,  I  was 
told  I  must  do  it  again.  My  sister  then  presented  hers. 
There  was  a  silence  for  a  moment,  and  I  looked  up  to 
see  what  was  the  cause.  Our  governess  was  pointing 
her  finger  to  some  sketches  down  the  side  of  the  map. 


EARLY  MEMORIES  23 

and  then  asked,  **  And  pray,  what  may  this  be  ?  '' 
It  looked  Hke  a  big  bird  eating  something.  ''  Oh/' 
repHed  my  sister,  '*  that  is  Turkey  gobbhng  up  Greece/' 
The  Turkey  was  a  fairly  faithful  likeness  of  the  farm- 
yard bird,  the  Greece  I  did  not  recognise  until  it  was 
further  explained  it  was  meant  to  represent  a  candle. 
Miss  Chevallier,  our  governess  at  that  time,  unfortu- 
nately dechned  to  stay  with  ''  such  a  little  devil,"  the 
devil  being  poor  me.  She  left  in  a  cloud  of  dust  one 
day  after  an  encounter  with  me.  It  happened  after 
this  wise.  I  observed  one  evening  at  tea  in  the  school- 
room that  she  was  not  eating  anything,  so  out  of  the 
kindness  of  my  heart,  asked  her  if  there  was  anything 
else  she  would  like  better  than  what  had  been  pro- 
vided. She  said  yes,  she  thought  she  would  like  an 
egg,  so  I  got  up  from  my  seat  preparing  to  ring  the 
bell,  but  was  seized  by  the  arm  and  told  to  sit  down 
again,  it  was  not  for  little  girls  to  ring  bells,  she  was 
mistress  in  the  schoolroom.  This  was  a  new  rule  to 
me,  hitherto  I  had  always  rung  the  bell  for  anything 
I  wanted,  and  I  resented  this  new  order,  so  escaped 
from  her,  making  a  dash  for  the  bell.  So  did 'she. 
Between  us,  not  only  did  we  ring  a  peal  that  brought 
most  of  the  household  to  see  what  had  happened,  but 
we  pulled  the  bell  bodily  out  of  the  wall,  covering 
ourselves  with  plaster  and  torn  paper,  as  well  as  the 
heavy  bell-pull,  which  consisted  of  a  wide  piece  of 
woolwork,  over  which  I  believe  a  great-grandmother 
had  many  times  pricked  her  fingers.  By  this  time  my 
mother  and  several  servants  had  come  to  see  what  was 
the  matter.  Miss  Chevalher  hastened  to  say  it  was  all 
my  fault  and  insubordination.  This  I  did  not  con- 
sider fair,  so  without  further  parleying  I  dashed  at 
her,  pulled  the  glasses  off  her  nose,  threw  them  on  the 
ground,  broke  a  gold  chain  round  her  neck,  and  pulled 
off  a  black  silk  apron  she  always  wore.  Before  I  could 
cause  her  any  disfigurement  I  was  marched  off  protest- 
ing to  my  bedroom,  and  locked  in,  being  told  I  should 
stay  there  until  I  was  sorry.  My  contrition  took  some 
days  before  it  shaped  itself  into  a  form  possible  of 


24     MEMORIES  DISCREET  AND  INDISCREET 

expression.  I  really  was  sorry  about  the  gold  chain, 
because  it  had  belonged  to  her  dead  mother,  so  I  said 
I  was  grieved  about  that,  but  for  the  rest  it  served  her 
right,  and  she  was  a  sneak,  unjust  and  untruthful, 
after  which  I  saw  her  no  more.  My  sister  took  an 
early  opportunity  to  creep  in  and  tell  me  the  omnibus 
we  used  for  station  work,  and  for  shooting,  had  been 
ordered  to  take  her  to  the  station. 

After  being  a  prisoner  for  some  days,  and  while 
everybody  was  out,  my  father  came  to  see  me,  and 
said  it  made  him  miserable  my  being  in  trouble,  and 
he  wished  I  would  say  I  was  sorry.  That  settled  it. 
I  said  I  was  sorry  I  had  caused  so  much  trouble  and 
sent  word  to  that  effect  to  my  mother,  after  which  I 
was  allowed  to  mix  with  the  household  once  more. 

I  was  not  a  strong  child  and  very  highly  strung, 
which  nobody  seemed  to  realise,  the  consequence  was 
I  was  often  in  the  doctor's  hands.  Our  county  doctor 
was  a  gentle  and  clever  little  man  who  knew  what  two 
and  two  make  without  being  told.  He  usually  ordered 
plenty  of  fresh  air  and  exercise.  This  kind  doctor 
used  to  amuse  us  when  we  were  children  with  his 
quaint  way  of  expressing  himself  and  his  nervous 
manner.     He  would  say,  for  instance,  while  washing 

his  hands  in  invisible  soap  and  water,  ''  Miss  X 

should  run  a  little,  and  drink  some  sherry  wine.'' 
Another  peculiarity  was  the  way  he  always  made 
almost  unconsciously  for  a  looking-glass  the  moment 
he  entered  a  room,  and  while  talking  earnestly  about 
his  patient's  diaphragm,  or  whatever  might  be  out  of 
order,  would  stand  in  front  of  the  glass  tweaking  his 
hair  into  the  most  becoming  lines,  finally  giving  a  little 
lilt  to  some  locks  near  his  ears,  which  gave  him  quite 
a  frisky  appearance.  Like  many  clever  people  he  had 
grown  through  his  hair  at  the  top. 

A  day  came  at  last  when  running  a  little  and  drink- 
ing sherry  wine  no  longer  took  effect,  and  I  was 
ordered  to  Ventnor  for  the  winter.  During  those 
months  we  saw  a  good  deal  of  the  Hambros  and 
Verners  of  Steephill  Castle.      They  were  a  big  party 


EARLY  MEMORIES  25 

of  young  people,  being  two  families  really,  as  Mrs. 
Hambro  of  Steephill  was  a  widow  with  a  family  of 
her  own  when  she  was  wooed  and  won  by  Colonel 
Verner,  who  likewise  had  a  family  of  his  own,  and 
during  that  winter  most  of  them  were  at  home.  Steep- 
hill  is  a  charming  place  standing  in  secluded  grounds 
with  a  good  sea  view  on  one  side  of  it.  It  was  there 
while  gathering  primroses  in  the  woods  near  the 
house  I  saw  for  the  first  and  last  time  in  my  life  a  jet- 
black  viper,  very  handsome  but  sinister-looking.  I  do 
not  wish  to  see  another,  they  are  quite  uncanny. 

Dudley  Hambro,  the  heir  to  Steephill  Castle,  was 
a  very  handsome  young  man,  at  that  time  unmarried, 
but  later  he  married  and  settled  down  in  the  Isle  of 
Wight.  It  was  his  eldest  son  who  met  his  death  under 
such  mysterious  circumstances  while  staying  with  the 
Alfred  Monsons,  who  were  renting  Ardlamont  in 
Argyllshire,  resulting  in  the  trial  of  Mr.  Monson,  the 
verdict  being  *'  non  proven." 

The  story  was  a  terrible  one,  involving  certain 
moneys  and  a  strange  accident  in  a  boat  by  which 
young  Hambro  nearly  lost  his  life.  The  unfortunate 
boy  escaped  only  to  die  by  a  gunshot  wound  while  out 
shooting  a  day  or  two  later,  the  question  being  whether 
it  was  an  accident  or  not. 

For  years  afterwards  on  the  anniversary  of  his  death, 
his  mother  used  to  insert  a  memoriam  in  the  Morning 
Post  followed  by  *'  Vengeance  is  mine,  saith  the  Lord." 

Added  to  this  awful  sorrow  Mr.  Hambro 's  finances 
went  wrong  and  the  Castle  passed,  I  believe,  into  other 
hands  and  I  knew  it  no  more. 

There  were  quite  a  number  of  interesting  people 
that  winter  at  Ventnor,  the  late  Lord  Suffield,  King 
Edward's  great  friend,  and  large  family  party.  Lord 
Suffield  used  to  ride  about  on  a  thick-set  cob,  looking 
exactly  like  a  jolly  old  farmer  and  quite  regardless  of 
appearances,  his  clothes  giving  the  impression  they 
had  come  out  of  the  rag-bag  :  his  short  coat-tails 
bulging  out  each  side  of  him  with  parcels  he  had 
brought  from  the  town  where  he  had  been  to  market. 


26     MEMORIES  DISCREET  AND  INDISCREET 

Once  I  saw  a  lobster  claw  sticking  out  of  one  of  his 
pockets.  He  used  to  discuss  finance  or  the  lack  of  it 
with  my  father,  who  was  supposed  to  be  lucky  with 
his  investments.  I  gathered  from  the  scraps  of  con- 
versation not  meant  for  me  to  hear  that  Lord  Suf- 
field  found  a  large  family  very  expensive  combined 
with  heavy  expenditure  entailed  by  his  position  at 
Court.  Notwithstanding  this  he  appeared  very  cheery 
and  pretended  to  drive  me,  holding  my  hair  like 
reins  and  telling  me  to  *'  Gee-up.''  Lady  Sufheld  (his 
first  wife)  was  always  smart  and  much  more  stiff  than 
her  husband. 

Then  there  were  the  Alfred  Pagets  with  a  bevy  of 
daughters.  When  the  whole  family  were  at  church 
they  filled  one  pew  to  overflowing  and  part  of  another. 
Lady  Alfred  was  not  strong  and  unable  to  go  out 
much  ;  it  was  for  her  health  that  they  were  at  Vent- 
nor.  The  children  all  promised  to  be  tall  and  had 
their  father's  dark  hair  and  eyes. 

One  Sunday  when  I  was  growing  stronger  and 
sitting  with  my  father  basking  in  the  sun  on  the 
esplanade.  Lord  Alfred  came  up  to  talk  to  my  parent 
and  sat  down  on  the  same  seat,  tipping  his  hat  over  his 
eyes  and  stretching  his  long  legs  out  comfortably. 

At  first  I  thought  their  conversation  dull,  but  after 
a  while  it  improved.  I  did  not  understand  all  the  jokes, 
but  some  of  the  stories  were  very  funny — one  about 
a  pet  abhorrence  of  Lord  Alfred's  (a  lady  who  after- 
wards wrote  a  remarkable  book  about  all  the  people 
of  her  day)  was  perplexing,  and  I  suppose  I  must 
have  been  looking  puzzled,  for  my  father,  who  was 
evidently  greatly  entertained,  suddenly  told  me  to 
''  run  away  and  play,"  quite  forgetting  in  his  anxiety 
to  get  rid  of  me  that  I  was  still  rather  an  invalid  and 
unable  to  do  so. 

I  have  since  then  found  the  explanation  of  some  of 
the  stories  that  I  did  not  understand  at  the  time.  I 
remember  even  then  I  was  interested  and  asked  to  be 
allowed  to  stay.  Lord  Alfred  laughed,  and  said  to  my 
father,  "  She  is  a  promising  young  lady,"  but  I  had 


EARLY  MEMORIES  27 

to  make  myself  scarce,  so  wandered  off  to  another 
seat,  where  a  pal  of  mine.  Lord  Lumley,  who  was  also 
an  invalid,  was  sunning  himself.  We  used  to  confide 
in  one  another,  and  while  he  told  me  what  hard  lines 
it  was  having  to  work  when  feeling  so  ill,  I  used  to 
count  the  freckles  on  his  nose.  The  poor  boy  was 
dying  of  consumption,  and  alone  with  a  tutor  who 
I  think  did  not  realise  how  ill  he  was,  and  expected 
him  to  do  more  than  he  had  strength  for.  He  died 
a  few  months  later,  much  to  the  surprise  and  grief  of 
his  parents. 

Ventnor  reminds  me  that  we  were  there  in  1870 
when  the  Cowper-Coles  were  also  staying  there  amongst 
other  friends.  Captain  Cowper-Coles  was  the  inventor 
of  the  six-gun  turret  ship  Captain,  which  aroused 
great  interest  at  the  time,  as  it  was  to  revolutionise 
naval  construction  and  perform  wonders.  The  founder- 
ing of  the  Captain  while  on  a  trial  trip  on  September 
7th,  1870,  was  regarded  as  a  national  calamity  and 
threw  a  deep  gloom  over  us  all.  My  father  and  I 
crossed  over  to  the  Isle  of  Wight  with  Captain  Cowper- 
Coles  shortly  before  the  accident,  and  I  remember 
quite  well  watching  the  fragile-looking  little  man  with 
his  then  fashionable  side- whiskers,  sitting  huddled  up 
in  the  lee  of  the  funnel  telling  my  father  of  his  hopes 
and  fears,  of  all  the  wonderful  things  his  ship  was  to 
do  for  England.  He  was  such  a  dear  little  man,  and 
his  enthusiasm  was  so  good  to  see,  that  it  gave  the 
subsequent  tragedy  almost  a  personal  note  for  us. 

We  were  all  so  sorry  for  Mrs.  Cowper-Coles,  as  it 
seemed  so  hard  that  in  addition  to  losing  a  good  and 
devoted  husband,  the  cup  of  fame  should  have  been 
dashed  from  their  lips  at  the  eleventh  hour.  She  was 
a  very  brave  and  clever  woman  and  did  the  best  she 
could  for  her  young  family  after  the  cruel  blow. 

The  Captain  was  commanded  by  Captain  Burgoyne, 
a  son  of  Field-Marshal  Burgoyne,  and  had  a  crew  of 
five  hundred  men.  At  the  time  it  happened  she  was 
out  with  the  squadron,  which  was  formed  into  three 
divisions :  the  Lord  Warden  (the  flagship),  the  Mino- 


28     MEMORIES  DISCREET  AND  INDISCREET 

taur,  and  Agincourt  leading,  the  Captain  came  last  of 
the  line.  Towards  night  the  weather  became  very 
rough  with  wind  and  rain.  About  one  o'clock  the 
Captain  was  observed  by  Admiral  Milner,  on  the  Lord 
Warden,  to  be  heeling  over  a  good  deal  to  starboard. 
She  was  being  carefully  watched,  this  being  practically 
her  trial  trip.  Looking  again  a  little  later  the  Admiral 
could  see  nothing  of  the  Captain,  but  attributed  it  to 
the  weather,  the  mist  and  rain  probably  preventing 
the  lights  being  seen.  The  storm  subsided  a  little 
towards  morning  and  the  squadron  were  scattered; 
now  instead  of  eleven  ships,  only  ten  could  be  seen, 
the  missing  one  being  the  Captain.  Search  was  made 
everywhere,  but  there  was  not  a  sign  of  her.  Later 
some  wreckage  was  picked  up  and  the  body  of  a  sea- 
man from  the  Captain,  leaving  no  longer  any  doubt 
of  what  had  happened,  namely,  she  had  foundered  in 
one  of  the  heavy  squalls  in  the  early  part  of  the  morn- 
ing The  new  turret  ship  and  its  inventor  had  gone, 
never  to  be  seen  any  more,  and  all  on  board  perished 
except  twenty  of  the  crew  who  were  rescued.  Amongst 
the  dead  was  a  son  of  Mr.  Childers  and  a  number  of 
visitors  who  had  been  interested  in  the  new  invention 
and  invited  on  board. 

As  far  as  I  can  remember  the  account  given  by  the 
survivors  of  this  disaster  gave  very  little  infolftnation 
beyond  the  fact  that  it  all  happened  so  quickly  there 
was  hardly  time  to  know  what  had  occurred,  why  or 
how,  except  that  first  she  heeled  over,  and  then  in  a 
few  minutes  turned  completely  over  and  disappeared ; 
the  driving  rain  and  the  fierce  wind  mingling  with  the 
noise  of  the  steam  roaring  from  the  boilers  still  forcing 
upwards  and  out-screaming  the  elements  was  not  to 
be  forgotten  by  the  few  left  to  tell  the  tale. 

The  career  of  this  unfortunate  inventor  is  interest- 
ing. He  served  as  midshipman  under  Admiral  Lord 
Lyon  in  the  Mediterranean  and  distinguished  himself 
at  the  sea  attack  on  the  defences  of  Sebastopol,  earning 
praise  from  Sir  Edward  Lyon,  who  said,  ''  Captain  Coles' 
gallantry  was  the  means  of  saving  the  Sanspareil/' 


EARLY  MEMORIES  29 

This  is  what  happened  as  nearly  as  I  can  remember 
from  what  I  have  been  told  by  his  people. 

The  Agamemnon  and  Sanspareil  were  alone,  and 
being  fired  on  continuously  by  the  enemy  from  Fort 
Constantine,  Mr.  Coles — but  I  suppose  I  should  call 
him  Lieutenant  Coles — seeing  how  harassed  these  ships 
were,  volunteered  to  take  an  order  to  Lord  George 
Paulet,  which  was  effected  at  great  personal  risk,  and 
under  great  difficulty. 

The  Quarterly  Review  of  that  time,  I  believe,  referred 
to  it  as  '*  an  act  of  devotion  and  courage  rarely  ex- 
ceeded.'' Many  thought  he  was  entitled  to  the  V.C., 
which,  however,  he  did  not  receive,  but  Admiral  Lyon 
presented  him  with  a  Commander's  Commission. 

During  the  Kertch  expedition  he  did  great  work, 
mounting  thirty  guns,  destroying  a  quantity  of  the 
enemy's  stores,  and  two  days  before  the  attack  on 
Taganrog,  finding  the  water  was  so  shallow  that  the 
Recruit,  the  Danube  and  French  steamer  Monette  were 
the  only  vessels  which  could  get  nearer  than  1400 
yards  of  the  place,  Captain  Coles,  on  the  spur  of  the 
moment,  invented  and  built  a  raft  drawing  less  than 
two  feet  of  water,  yet  able  to  carry  a  long  32-pounder. 
By  the  following  morning  he  and  his  men  had  the  raft 
ready.  He  named  it  the  Lady  Nancy,  mounted  the 
gun  with  a  hundred  rounds  of  ammunition,  and  it  was 
ready  for  work.  Owing  to  the  lightness  of  this  raft, 
it  was  able  to  take  up  a  most  effective  position  within 
point-blank  range,  "  contributing  considerably  to  the 
success  of  the  day."  So  spake  the  authorities,  and  the 
Admiralty  even  were  forced  to  express  their  appre- 
ciation of  his  ingenuity,  resourcefulness  and  ability, 
both  in  design  and  construction  of  the  raft. 

In  the  following  November  a  board  was  appointed 
by  the  Commander-in-Chief  to  report  upon  Captain 
Cowper-Coles'  method  and  plans  for  the  construction 
of  shot-proof  rafts,  guns  and  mortars.  He  was  now 
considered  too  valuable  to  be  kept  at  sea,  and  so  highly 
were  his  drawings  and  models  appreciated  that  he 
was  ordered  home,  for  the  help  and  instruction  of  the 


30     MEMORIES  DISCREET  AND  INDISCREET 

dockyard  authorities,  also  the  surveyor  of  the  Navy, 
and  it  is  due  in  a  great  measure  to  Sir  WilHam  Arm- 
strong and  Captain  Cowper-Coles  that  England  has 
been  able  to  anticipate  all  the  most  cunning  inventions 
of  rival  naval  powers. 

How  near  the  ill-fated  Captain  got  to  being  an 
epoch-making  invention  is  shown  by  the  words  of 
Vice- Admiral  Symonds,  who  said  :  *'  She  is  a  most 
formidable  ship  and  could,  I  believe,  by  her  superior 
armament,  destroy  all  the  broadside  ships  of  the 
squadron  in  detail/' 


CHAPTER  II 

A  SECRET   ENGAGEMENT 

Exciting  Times  in  Yorkshire — An  Incendiary  and  Attempted  Murder — 
Sir  Julius  Benedict  Annoyed — Engaged  to  Be  Married  at  Twelve 
— A  Peculiar  Engagement  Ring — I  Faint  at  Buckingham  Palace— 
A  Row  in  the  Sacred  Precincts — An  Adventurous  Drive  with  Sir 
William  Worsley — Sir  Charles  Dodsworth  Borrows  the  Butler's 
Trousers — A  Ball  at  Escrick  Park — Why  We  Were  Late — Sir 
Arthur  Lawley  at  Lucknow. 

WE  used  to  have  some  thrills  in  Yorkshire  when 
the  men  from  the  ship-yards  and  iron-works 
went  out  on  strike,  which,  when  I  was  a  girl, 
they  did  frequently.  As  we  lived  not  many  miles 
away,  we  generally  knew  all  about  it,  especially  as 
there  was  a  pet  public-house  of  theirs  at  the  corner  of 
my  father's  property.  This  place  became  such  a 
nuisance  that  he  had  its  licence  taken  away.  There 
was  a  good  deal  of  bitter  feeling  about  this,  and  we 
were  not  altogether  surprised  one  night,  to  hear  my 
father's  haystacks  were  on  fire.  The  police  thought 
they  would  not  have  much  difficulty  in  finding  the 
culprits.  In  this,  they  were  not  far  wrong.  A  small 
piece  of  partly  burnt  newspaper  was  found,  evidently 
blown  by  the  wind  into  a  hedge,  which  agreed  with 
and  was  part  of  a  newspaper  discovered  in  the  cottage 
of  one  of  the  suspected  people.  This  combined  with 
other  things,  and  the  fact  that  the  wind  was  blowing 
in  the  direction  of  the  man's  cottage  that  night,  and 
the  partly  burnt  paper  was  in  the  hedge  going  in  that 
direction,  sufficient  evidence  was  forthcoming  for  the 
man  to  be  arrested.  My  father  did  not  of  course  sit 
on  the  bench  during  the  hearing  of  the  case,  but  I 
recollect  seeing  the  man  and  feeling  frightened  at  the 
way  he  scowled  at  us  all.    It  was  decided  the  case  must 

31 


32     MEMORIES  DISCREET  AND  INDISCREET 

go  up  for  trial,  so  the  supposed  culprit  had  to  go  to 
Leeds. 

The  morning  he  was  being  taken  there,  he  was 
standing  handcuffed  on  the  platform  of  Stockton 
Station  waiting  for  the  train  to  come  in,  a  policeman 
on  each  side  of  him.  A  number  of  people  were  on  the 
platform.  The  train  came  into  the  station,  and  before 
anybody  realised  what  had  happened,  the  man 
darted  away  from  his  keepers,  and  threw  himself  in 
front  of  it  and  the  engine  and  several  carriages  passed 
over  him.  The  policemen  got  down  on  to  the 
permanent-way  to  see  what  was  left  of  the  victim,  and 
to  their  surprise  found  him  lying  under  one  of  the 
carriages,  none  the  worse,  except  for  a  few  scratches 
and  a  bruise  or  two ;  he  was  unceremoniously  pulled 
out  and  carried  off  to  Leeds.  It  was  a  wonderful 
escape,  due  chiefly  to  the  man's  being  handcuffed 
and  unable  to  throw  his  arms  about,  thus  he  fell 
straight  like  a  log  between  the  lines.  By  the  way, 
I  believe  a  few  hot  cinders  found  their  way  down  his 
neck  just  to  leave  a  little  remembrance  of  so  great  an 
occasion,  but  nothing  more.  The  man  was  proved 
guilty,  but  I  forget  what  his  punishment  was. 

Another  excitement  we  had,  but  it  was  when  I  was 
older.  A  maid-servant  of  ours  who  was  very  pretty 
and  a  great  favourite  in  the  household,  was  walking 
to  the  village  about  two  miles  away  and  along  a  very 
lonely  road  to  get  a  pair  of  boots  mended.  As  soon  as 
she  got  outside  the  gate,  which  is  some  way  from  the 
house  and  far  out  of  sight  of  any  windows,  a  man 
suddenly  jumped  out  of  a  hedge  and  demanded 
money.  She  replied  she  had  none.  He  then  seized 
hold  of  her,  saying  that  unless  she  found  some  quickly 
it  would  be  the  worse  for  her  and  tried  to  find  her 
pocket.  She  screamed  for  help,  upon  which  the 
ruffian  pulled  out  a  pistol,  shot  her  at  close  quarters 
and  ran  away.  As  luck  would  have  it,  my  brother's 
groom  drove  round  a  bend  of  the  road  at  this  moment, 
and,  seeing  a  man  running  away  and  a  woman  lying 
at  the  side  of  the  road,  he  jumped  down,  threw  the 


A  SECRET  ENGAGEMENT  33 

reins  over  the  post  of  a  gate,  and  gave  chase.  It  is  not 
easy  to  run  swiftly  in  top-boots,  and  the  fugitive  was 
getting  further  and  further  away  when  the  groom  saw 
a  farmer  in  one  of  the  fields,  and  shouted  to  him  to 
"  Stop  thief/'  The  farmer  headed  off  the  man,  and 
between  them  they  captured  him  and  locked  him  up 
in  the  farm  hard  by.  He  had  been  seen  to  throw  his 
pistol  away,  so  the  farmer  felt  brave,  and  he  stood 
outside  the  building  with  his  gun  until  the  police 
arrived.  The  girl's  life  it  turned  out  had  been  saved 
by  the  boots  she  was  carrying,  the  bullet  had  gone 
through  two  fairly  thick  boots  and  then  entered  her 
side,  her  cloak  being  singed.  She  was  lifted  into  the 
dog-cart  and  driven  with  all  speed  to  the  nearest 
hospital  about  four  miles  away. 

The  man  got  penal  servitude  for,  I  think,  ten  years. 
The  last  words  he  was  heard  to  utter  before  being 
taken  to  work  out  his  sentence  were,  that  he  would 
"  murder  the  lot  "  of  us,  when  he  came  out  again. 
I  feel  this  story  is  not  complete  unless  I  add  that 
when  the  girl  recovered  she  married  the  groom  who 
captured  her  would-be  murderer. 

Feeling  I  should  never  learn  much  at  home  I  asked 
my  people  to  let  me  go  to  London  and  have  some 
lessons  ;  so  to  town  I  went,  and  Madame  Bue  taught 
me  French,  Signor  Puchini  Italian,  Naftell  and 
Goodall  painting,  Benedict  for  music,  Leopold  for 
singing.  I  got  on  fairly  well  with  all  but  poor,  dear 
old  Benedict.  I  used  to  go  to  his  house  in  Manchester 
Square  for  my  music  lessons  accompanied  by  a 
governess,  who  did  crochet  work  while  I  drove  Sir 
Julius  nearly  mad.  Being  such  a  brilliant  pianist 
himself  he  at  times  grew  impatient  with  my,  to  him, 
no  doubt,  elephantine  efforts  to  play  Chopin.  From 
my  heart  I  pitied  him  ;  it  must  be  so  terrible  to  teach 
music,  I  told  myself,  and  I  really  was  doing  my  best 
and  was  very  keen  to  improve. 

One  day  after  bungling  one  of  those  special  twiddles 
so  dear  to  the  heart  of  Chopin,  which  for  some  reason 
best  known  to  himself  he  placed  after  the  notes  he 


34     MEMORIES  DISCREET  AND  INDISCREET 

intended  them  to  be  played  before,  out  flew  Sir 
Julius'  arm  and  swept  the  music  off  the  stand  and  half 
across  the  room.  The  governess  jumped  as  if  she  had 
been  shot.  Sir  Julius  strode  up  and  down  the  room 
holding  his  head,  for  once  quite  oblivious  of  the 
beautifully  rolled  sausage  curl  that  ran  round  it. 
I  had  been  on  the  point  of  apologising  for  my  in- 
artistic twiddle,  but  now  my  heart  was  hard,  and  I 
sat  looking  straight  in  front  of  me,  without  moving  or 
speaking.  My  governess  told  me  to  pick  up  the 
music,  but  I  suggested  that  the  proper  person  to  pick 
it  up  was  the  one  who  threw  it  down.  Sir  Julius  did 
not  seem  inclined  to  do  so,  neither  did  I,  therefore  my 
governess  picked  it  up  herself,  and  replaced  it  on  the 
music-stand.  Sir  Julius  then  in  icy  tones  of  extreme 
politeness  requested  me  to  vacate  the  music-stool 
while  he  tried  once  more  to  show  me  how  Chopin 
should  be  played.  This  was  quite  unnecessary,  as  I 
knew  exactly  how  he  should  be  played. 

I  had  another  offensive  habit.  Every  now  and  then 
when  moved  by  the  beauty  of  the  music  or  the 
brilliancy  of  my  own  technique,  I  would  indulge  in 
little  additions  of  my  own,  not  prescribed  by  the 
composer.  I  was  quickly  pulled  up  by  my  instructor, 
who  used  to  say  in  a  weary  voice,  *'  No  embellishments, 
if  you  please,  Miss  X .     It  was  quite  funny. 

At  the  end  of  my  lessons  we  parted  outwardly  calm 
and  friendly,  but  I  fear  with  hate  in  our  hearts  ;  though 
he  was  good  and  forgiving  enough  to  send  me  tickets 
for  his  concerts,  also  others  he  thought  would  interest 
me.  He  was  a  most  painstaking  teacher,  but  I  must 
have  been  a  pain  and  grief  to  him  who  had  music  on 
the  brain,  in  his  soul,  and  at  his  finger-tips.  I  wonder 
his  nervous  system  did  not  break  down  under  the 
strain.  My  only  consolation,  and  the  thought  rather 
modified  my  pity,  was  that  there  was  no  need  for  him 
to  give  music  lessons  at  all,  unless  he  wished  to  do  so  ; 
but  money  had  attractions  for  him.  He  had  worked 
hard  at  his  profession  and  studied  under  Weber.  It 
was  a  lucky  day  for  him  when  he  decided  to  leave 


A  SECRET  ENGAGEMENT  35 

Germany,  and  try  whether  England  would  appreciate 
his  talents  more  than  did  the  inhabitants  of  Stuttgart, 
where  after  teaching  for  an  hour  he  was  presented 
with  a  thaler,  which  would  answer  to  about  three 
shillings  of  our  English  money. 

In  England  he  soon  found  his  lessons  brought  him 
in  guineas,  and  his  performances  hundreds  of  pounds. 
Nevertheless,  after  making  a  very  nice  little  fortune, 
he  still  gave  lessons,  but  certainly  not  because  he  loved 
teaching.  He  really  was  a  master  of  precision  and 
detail.  At  nineteen  he  conducted  the  Opera  at  Vienna, 
at  twenty-three  he  had  composed  an  opera  himself. 
Germany  thought  him  quite  a  nice  musician,  nothing 
more.  In  England  he  was  fussed  over,  and  told  he 
was  a  great  man,  in  fact  one  of  the  greatest  men  of  his 
day  in  the  musical  world.  This  was  flattering  and 
soothing,  so  he  decided  to  make  England  his  home, 
especially  as  he  had  been  made  a  knight,  in  honour  of 
his  oratorios  and  cantatas,  which  found  much  favour. 

His  appearance  was  not  attractive  and  he  walked 
with  a  curious  sort  of  shufile,  his  head  well  in  advance 
of  his  body  and  nearly  always  with  two  love -locks 
flying  out  behind  which  seemed  to  escape  the  curling 
tongs,  curl  papers  or  whatever  form  of  hair  manipula- 
tion he  affected. 

Great  movements  that  open  up  new  worlds  often 
come  upon  us  suddenly,  or  we  come  upon  them.  One 
of  these  epoch-making  movements  came  to  me  when 
still  struggling  with  my  education  and  it  entirely 
changed  my  perspective. 

One  day,  when  out  riding  with  some  friends  of  my  own 
age,  I  learnt  that  our  grandfather,  on  my  father's  side, 
had  left  all  of  us  children,  small  fortunes  to  accumulate 
until  we  came  of  age  or  married.  I  asked  my  com- 
panions how  they  knew  this,  and  was  told  they  had 
heard  their  parents  talking  about  it.  This  seemed  too 
good  to  be  true  and  I  decided  to  lose  no  time  in  finding 
out.  I  boldly  asked  my  father  as  soon  as  I  found  him 
alone.  Yes,  it  was  true  and  he  wished  to  know  who  had 
told  me.    Fearing  I  might  get  my  friends  into  trouble 


36     MEMORIES  DISCREET  AND  INDISCREET 

I  said  I  had  been  told  in  confidence,  so  would  rather 
not  say.  The  point  was  not  pressed,  my  father 
evidently  realising  if  I  did  not  hear  it  from  one  person, 
I  should  from  another,  before  I  was  much  older. 

A  new  world  was  opened  to  me.  My  fortune  was  to 
be  mine  when  I  came  of  age  or  married.  Clearly  then 
the  thing  to  do  was  to  marry  with  all  haste,  and  so 
come  into  my  kingdom  ;  there  would  then  be  no  more 
lessons,  governesses  and  ructions.  I  should  be  able 
to  hunt  when  I  liked,  buy  all  the  horses  I  wanted, 
besides  enjoying  many  other  things  too  bewildering  to 
contemplate.  Here  I  was  pulled  up  sharply  by  the 
first  thorn  attached  to  my  rose,  or  the  first  rose 
attached  to  my  thorn,  whichever  it  might  turn  out  to 
be,  I  was  confronted  with  the  awkward  question  of 
whom  could  I  marry  ? 

I  confided  my  difficulty  to  a  great  pal  of  mine  then 
home  for  the  holidays  from  one  of  the  public  schools. 
He  was  really  a  friend  in  need,  for  most  gallantly  he 
replied,  *'  You  can  marry  me  if  you  like.''  There  was 
no  display  of  emotion,  as  there  was  none  to  display. 
We  were  like  the  gulls  sitting  dispassionately  side  by 
side  engaged  and  undemonstrative.  I  thanked  him 
very  much  for  being  so  obliging,  and  he  agreed  to 
marry  me  the  moment  he  left  school.  I  remember  as 
we  parted  that  day,  drawing  him  on  one  side  to  make 
the  stipulation  that  he  must  take  me  round  the  world, 
let  me  have  as  many  horses  as  I  liked,  and  allow  me  to 
hunt  on  all  possible  occasions,  to  all  of  which  he 
agreed.  He  seemed  thoughtful,  however,  and  a  little 
worried  at  having  to  go  round  the  world  with  me  ! 

My  feeling  of  importance  at  this  time  was  over- 
whelming. I  felt  so  grown-up,  with  that  delicious  secret 
shared  between  my  fiance  and  myself.  It  was  annoying 
for  an  engaged  young  woman  to  have  to  wear  short 
skirts  and  have  her  hair  hanging  down  her  back ;  but  I 
consoled  myself  with  the  thought  of  the  time  when  I 
should  be  able  to  please  myself  in  all  such  matters,  and 
go  into  dinner  instead  of  dessert  in  the  evening. 

One  of  the  great  features  of  this  engagement  was  the 


A  SECRET  ENGAGEMENT  37 

undemonstrativeness  of  us  both.  My  young  man,  whom 

I  had  better  call  Z ,  thought  love-making  ''awful 

rot,"  and  hoped  I  did  ?  With  this  I  quite  agreed,  but 
explained  I  had  some  lofty  ideals  about  loyalty, 
unselfishness,  and  so  on.  We  discussed  and  argued 
them  to  our  mutual  satisfaction. 

Before  returning  to  school  Z rather  shyly  pre- 
sented me  with  an  engagement  ring,  saying  it  was  the 
proper  thing  to  do.  He  had  asked  the  old  family 
coachman  all  about  it,  without,  of  course,  saying  why 
he  wished  to  know.  The  ring  was  then  produced  and 
pushed  on  to  my  finger,  but  not  before  we  had  nearly 
quarrelled  over  the  correct  finger  for  engaged  couples. 

Z was  very  apologetic  about  the  ring,  saying  it  was  a 

curious-looking  thing.  He  promised  to  get  me  a  better 
one  when  he  got  his  school  tips.  I  had  grave  misgivings 
about  accepting  this  offering,  as  it  was  broad,  and 
remarkable  in  appearance,  therefore  certain  to  attract 
attention.  I  made  up  my  mind  that,  as  soon  as  he  was 
gone,  I  would  take  it  off  and  put  it  out  of  sight. 
Instinct  told  me  he  would  be  hurt  if  I  declined  to 
accept  his  humble  offering.  Removing  the  thing, 
however,  I  found  was  not  an  easy  thing  to  do.  Nothing 
would  persuade  it  to  come  off,  and  I  had  to  go  to  bed 
in  the  wretched  thing.  Fortunately  no  remarks  had 
been  made  on  it.  Possibly  it  was  regarded  as  childish 
vanity,  or  a  freak  of  no  importance.  In  the  middle  of 
the  night  I  was  forcibly  reminded  of  my  engagement 
ring  by  a  swollen  and  painful  finger. 

In  the  morning  I  observed  a  green  margin  round 
my  ring,  and  on  examining  it  carefully,  came  to  the  con- 
clusion, it  had  been  made  out  of  the  ferrule  of  my  lover's 
walking-stick  or  umbrella.  One  thing  was  certain,  from 
my  finger  it  would  have  to  go  at  all  costs.  I  went  to 
my  mother's  maid,  a  human  sort  of  body.  She  said,  it 
would  have  to  be  sawn  off  my  finger.  I  was  taken 
into  our  nearest  town,  and  had  the  ring  sawn  off  by  a 
jeweller.  I  brought  it  home  in  pieces ;  the  man  seemed 
a  little  amused  at  my  anxiety  to  have  the  remains. 

After  the  fashion  of  girls  I  grew  up  more  quickly 


38     MEMORIES  DISCREET  AND  INDISCREET 

than  did  Z ,  and  at  times  had  misgivings  as  to  the 

wisdom  of  my  engagement. 

It  was  when  I  was  still  engaged  to  be  married  to 

Z that  I  was  allowed  to  go  and  see  a  Drawing-Room 

held  by  the  late  Queen  Victoria  at  Buckingham  Palace. 
I  confided  in  my  lover  that  it  troubled  me  having  to  go 
in  short  skirts  and  childish  garments  when  so  many 
relations  and  people  I  knew  were  in  trains  yards  long. 
I  thought  it  quite  time  I  looked  more  grown-up.  He 
was  very  sympathetic.  So  was  a  grown-up  friend  and 
connection  who  came  to  see  my  people  in  all  their 
finery.  He  suggested  my  letting  down  a  tuck  or  two, 
or  letting  out  a  gather  !  This  so  amused  me,  I  forgot 
my  troubles  in  laughter,  the  idea  of  the  dignity  of  my 
appearance  being  enhanced  by  a  few  gathers  hanging 
loose  round  my  waist.  When  he  saw  my  amusement 
he  also  laughed  at  his  own  brilliancy. 

On  arrival  at  the  Palace,  General  Lynedock 
Gardener  took  me  under  his  wing.  I  followed  him 
into  a  sort  of  waiting-room  with  a  round  table  in  the 
middle  of  it,  dingy  cloth,  carpet  and  curtains,  several 
large  glass-fronted  cabinets  and  cupboards  with  dull- 
looking  china  in  them,  probably  priceless  specimens, 
but  to  my  inexperienced  eye  very  uninteresting. 

Altogether  I  was  disappointed.  It  was  not  my  idea  of 
a  palace  at  all.  I  had  hoped  and  expected  to  see  every- 
thing bright  and  glittering  inside,  even  if  the  outside 
looked  dull  and  depressing.  I  was  just  beginning  to 
feel  chilly,  and  to  wish  I  had  not  come,  when  General 
Gardener  returned  and  took  me  to  a  place  in  a  narrow, 
rather  dark  passage,  where  he  told  me  I  should  see 
everybody  pass  into  the  Throne-room. 

It  all  came  true.  I  saw  the  beautiful  Princess  of 
Wales  come  through  a  grubby-looking  little  door  at 
the  end  of  the  passage.  She  was  chatting  and  laughing 
with  those  about  her,  but  I  had  eyes  for  none  but  her. 
I  forgot  to  look  at  the  rest,  and  as  she  passed  me  I 
made  a  curtsy  and  she  smiled  and  bowed  her  graceful 
head  to  me.  I  was  in  a  seventh  heaven,  for  I  had 
always  admired  her  enormously,   and  the   way   she 


A  SECRET  ENGAGEMENT  39 

bowed  even  in  those  early  days  impressed  me.  Nobody 
ever  bowed  as  she  did.  It  was  not  a  nod,  or  wag  of  the 
head  ;  but  a  gentle  dignified  movement  from  the  waist, 
which  everybody  will  remember,  and  none  have  ever 
been  able  successfully  to  copy. 

After  the  Princess,  now  Queen  Alexandra,  had 
passed  with  her  retinue  and  disappeared  into  another 
room,  the  ladies  attending  the  Drawing-Room  began 
to  walk  past  me,  and  I  was  allowed  to  see  their  trains 
thrown  down  and  spread  out  as  they  entered  the 
Presence ;  for  a  time  I  was  interested,  then  it  began  to 
pall,  especially  as  many  of  the  women  looked  so  cross. 
Fortunately  after  a  time  Audrey  Harcourt,  at  that 
time  Page-in-Waiting,  came  and  asked  me  if  I  would 
like  to  go  and  see  the  people  packing  up  to  go  away. 
Joyfully  I  accepted  this  invitation,  but  it  was  a 
surprise  to  me  to  see  people,  some  of  whom  I  knew, 
others  I  did  not,  pushing  and  shoving  one  another  in 
a  way  I  hardly  expected  to  see  amongst  gentlefolk. 
One  woman,  scratched  by  the  bracelet  of  another 
standing  near,  turned  on  her  with  a  perfect  torrent  of 
swear  words  such  as  I  had  never  heard  before,  clawed 
her  hair,  finally  hitting  her  in  the  face. 

The  luckless  lady  thus  assaulted  burst  into  noisy  and 
quite  unrestrained  tears,  but  I  do  not  know  how  the 
scene  ended,  as  I  was  so  frightened  and  tired  that  my 
head  began  to  go  round  and  I  had  horrid  mixed-up 
visions  of  the  Red  Queen  in  Alice  in  Wonderland  or  Alice 
Through  the  Looking-Glass ,  I  forget  which,  coming  for 
me  with  the  hair-brush  still  tangled  in  her  hair,  as  I 
had  seen  her  last  in  my  story  book  at  home.  The 
next  thing  I  remembered  was  having  drinks  of  cold 
water  given  me  on  some  stairs  and  feeling  cold  and 
sick,  but  being  told  I  was  ''  all  right  now."  Whenever 
I  think  of  this  extraordinary  scene  within  the  walls  of 
Queen  Victoria's  most  decorous  court,  Kipling's  lines 
occur  to  me  as  being  wonderfully  appropriate  : 

"  For  the  Colonel's  lady  and  Judy  O'Grady 
Are  sisters  under  their  skins." 

Yorkshire  in  those  days  was  a  very  gay  and  festive 


40     MEMORIES  DISCREET  AND  INDISCREET 

county.  People  then  lived  more  on  their  own  property 
than  they  do  now,  and  how  hospitable  they  were. 

My  first  ball  was  in  the  Assembly  Room  at  York, 
given  by  the  Yorkshire  Hussars  (Yeomanry).  It  was 
always  a  great  gathering  ;  from  there  to  Scarborough 
for  more  dances  and  then  to  stay  at  Wool!  Knoll,  near 
Hovingham,  with  Sir  William  and  Lady  Worsley  for 
a  dance  at  Gilhng  Castle.  This  particular  dance  is 
impressed  on  my  memory  by  an  exciting  ^rive  we  had 
to  it.  The  house-party,  I  think,  consisted  of  Miss 
Lascelles  of  Harewood,  Miss  Gilpin-Brown  of  Sed- 
bury  Park,  Sir  Charles  Dodsworth  of  Thornton, 
a  Mr.  Carmichael,  the  present  baron,  I  believe, 
but  so  many  tides  have  washed  the  shore  since  then, 
and  we  have  scattered  over  the  face  of  the  earth, 
that  I  cannot  be  certain;  also  one  of  the  Beresford- 
Peirses,  Matthew,  I  think  his  name  was,  but  here 
again  I  cannot  be  certain.  The  chaperones  consisted 
of  Lady  Worsley  and  my  mother. 

I  remember  the  night  of  the  dance  was  very  dark, 
and  the  floods  were  out.  Sir  William  Worsley  took  all 
the  young  people  in  a  big  omnibus,  the  chaperones 
followed  in  a  carriage.  Our  coachman  managed  to 
miss  his  way  and  we  found  water  flowing  in  under  the 
door,  and  the  horses  plunging  about  in  water  above 
their  knees.  We  all  tucked  our  feet  up  on  the  seats 
opposite  and  thought  it  rather  amusing.  Not  so  dear 
old  Sir  William,  who  was  as  anxious  about  his  load  of 
chicks  as  any  old  hen.  He  felt  responsible  for  our 
safety  and  well-being.  It  did  not  seem  a  wise  thing  to 
get  out  into  the  water,  so  after  conversing  with  the 
servants  on  the  box,  who  confessed  they  did  not  know 
where  they  were,  he  tried  to  crawl  through  the  window 
and  get  on  to  the  box  himself.  It  was  rather  a  struggle. 
We  all  helped  from  behind,  and  when  he  got  his  head 
and  one  shoulder  firmly  wedged  into  the  window,  down 
went  one  of  the  horses.  Here  was  a  pretty  kettle  of 
fish.  Sir  William  half  in  and  half  out,  one  horse  had 
lost  his  feet,  and  water  in  the  bottom  of  the  vehicle. 

Sir  Charles  Dodsworth  bravely  said  he  would  get 


A  SECRET  ENGAGEMENT  41 

out  and  see  what  could  be  done.  By  the  time  he  had 
got  thoroughly  wet,  the  horse  had  regained  its  feet, 
and  we  were  scrambling  on  to  drier  and  firmer  ground. 
Seeing  a  light  in  the  road  behind  us  Sir  Charles  ran 
back  and  foimd  it  was  the  chaperones,  and  we  had  the 
satisfaction  to  know  we  were  on  the  right  road, 
although  we  had  got  off  it,  where  the  floods  were 
rather  heavy,  and  had  been  down  on  the  ditch  side 
almost  off  the  road  where  the  water  was  rather  deep. 
While  Sir  Charles  was  finding  all  this  out,  we  were 
trying  to  pull  Sir  William  back  from  the  window,  and 
now  he  was  easier  in  his  mind  about  our  safety  he 
enjoyed  the  joke,  as  few  men  of  his  age  would  have 
done.    At  all  times  he  was  the  most  cheery  of  souls. 

The  next  anxiety  was  whether  any  harness  had  been 
broken  while  the  horses  were  plunging  about  in  the 
water.  We  were  told  everything  was  all  right,  for  the 
lights  had  been  taken  down,  all  carefully  examined, 
and  a  few  little  adjustments  made  with  string  and 
some  braid  pulled  off  a  seat  cushion,  and  we  slowly 
continued  our  way.  Poor  Sir  Charles  was  so  wet  we 
had  to  clear  a  space  and  let  him  drip  on  it  by  himself, 
so  we  piled  up  on  each  other's  knees,  huddhng  up  at 
one  end  of  the  omnibus  as  much  as  we  could.  Sir 
William  was  still  anxious,  as  he  was  afraid  we  might 
have  cracked  the  pole  when  the  horse  fell,  and  was 
prepared  for  a  great  disaster  at  any  moment.  He  told 
us  it  would  be  the  last  time  he  would  ever  take  young 
people  to  a  dance  ;  it  had  aged  him  five  years  !  I  am 
glad  to  say  he  did  not  keep  to  this  vow,  or  I  should 
have  missed  many  happy  times. 

When  we  finally  arrived  at  Gilling  and  clattered  into 
the  courtyard,  with  a  sigh  of  relief.  Sir  William  saw 
us  all  into  the  cloak-room,  and  went  to  see  what 
could  be  done  about  dry  clothes  for  Sir  Charles  Dods- 
worth.  He  appeared  after  a  while  looking  not  much 
amiss,  and  declaring  he  was  wearing  the  butler's 
trousers.  Whether  this  was  true  or  not  I  cannot  say, 
but  I  observed  he  did  not  dance  with  the  usual  wild 
vigour,  so  perhaps  they  were  not  quite  as  roomy  and 


42     MEMORIES  DISCREET  AND  INDISCREET 

comfortable  as  his  own.  Beyond  a  slight  cold,  he 
declared  he  was  none  the  worse  after  it  all. 

Another  exciting  drive  we  had  once,  when  going  to 
a  dance  at  Escrick  in  old  Lord  Wenlock's  time  (the 
second  baron).  The  weather  had  been  very  rough  and 
a  tree  had  been  blown  across  the  road,  barring  our 
advance.  We  were  not  the  only  people  held  up  by  it, 
gradually  carriage  after  carriage  pulled  up  behind  us, 
and  we  all  held  council  on  what  was  the  best  thing  to 
be  done.  Eventually,  with  the  combined  efforts  of 
the  different  servants  and  our  menkind  in  their 
immaculate  evening  clothes,  the  top  end  of  the  tree 
was  moved  sufficiently  to  allow  us  to  pass  with  careful 
driving.  We  were  first  to  move  on,  and  the  noise  made 
by  driving  over  the  minor  branches,  combined  with  the 
way  they  had  of  striking  out,  made  the  horses  think 
they  were  frightened,  so  they  proceeded  to  run  away. 

We  were  swished  past  hedges  and  trees,  into  ditches 
and  out  again.  During  our  exit  from  one  of  the 
ditches  the  pole  snapped  and  away  we  went  afresh,  but 
with  redoubled  fury,  swaying  from  side  to  side,  some- 
times on  four  wheels  and  sometimes  on  two.  We  put 
down  the  windows  to  save  being  cut  by  broken  glass. 
One  girl  with  us  kept  shouting  to  the  coachman  to 
stop  as  she  wished  to  get  out  !  A  youth,  though  silent 
and  helpful  in  putting  down  windows  and  balancing 
himself  and  us  from  side  to  side  as  occasion  arose 
according  to  the  number  of  wheels  we  happened  to  be 
using,  selected  that  moment  to  be  ''sea-sick.''  Pre- 
sently we  became  conscious  of  a  distinct  relaxation 
of  speed.  We  had  come  to  a  hill,  and  the  men  on  the 
box  seized  the  opportunity  to  get  a  pull  at  the  horses 
and  turned  them  into  the  hedge,  calling  to  us  to  get 
out  quickly  before  they  started  off  again. 

Nothing  would  have  pleased  us  better  than  to  get 
out  quickly  ;  unfortunately  one  door  was  blocked  by 
the  hedge  and  the  other  had  become  jammed  during 
our  mad  career.  We  dared  not  bang  or  bump  it  much, 
for  fear  of  upsetting  the  horses  again.  Meanwhile  the 
groom  had  jumped  down  and  was  undoing  the  traces 


A  SECRET  ENGAGEMENT  43 

and  taking  the  horses  out  of  the  carriage  as  quickly  as 
possible.  We  could  hear  the  coachman  conversing 
with  the  horses  in  what  was  intended  to  be  reassuring 
accents,  but  sounded  very  breathless  and  w^obbly. 
It  was  a  relief  to  us  all,  when  we  saw  the  trembling 
and  foam-flecked  animals  being  led  away.  We  then 
hammered  the  door  open  and  gratefully  stood  on  safe 
ground  once  more.  Presently  we  saw  lights  approach- 
ing, and  to  our  joy,  discovered  friends  had  come  in 
search  of  us,  after  depositing  the  dancing  people  at 
Escrick,  so  we  were  carried  ofi  and  although  very  late 
and  rather  tousled  finished  the  night  dancing,  with  the 
exception  of  the  girl  who  screamed  and  had  to  lie 
down  and  have  sal- volatile  to  pull  her  together.  The 
funny  part  of  the  story  was,  that  this  girl  whom  we 
had  fairly  to  sit  upon,  she  was  so  frightened,  went 
round  the  country  telling  everybody  that  we  all 
fainted  with  the  exception  of  herself. 

The  Lord  Wenlock  of  whom  I  write  was  a  great 
fine-looking  man,  I  can  see  him  now  standing  in  front 
of  the  fire,  feet  well  apart,  and  his  head  thrown  back, 
a  favourite  attitude  of  his,  can  see  his  well-known 
figure  in  the  Assembly  Rooms  at  York — walking  down 
Coney  Street  and  on  to  the  Club  close  to  Lendal 
Bridge.  He  was  always  kind  to  young  people  and 
particularly  to  me.  His  son  Arthur  Lawley  (now  Sir 
Arthur)  who  was  in  the  loth  Hussars,  called  by  his 
familiar  friends  "  Jo,''  was  another  kind  friend.  He 
was  at  Lucknow  with  his  regiment,  at  the  time  when 
I  had  a  nasty  fall  schooling  a  pony  over  some  jumps, 
and  got  rather  badly  rolled  on.  He  used  to  send  me 
flowers  and  write  kind  notes  to  cheer  me  while  a 
prisoner  in  my  room.  Since  then  he  has  filled  all  sorts 
of  important  posts.  Administrator  of  Matabeleland, 
Governor  of  W.  Australia,  Lieut. -Governor  of  the 
Transvaal,  and  Governor  of  Madras.  Sir  Arthur  has 
been  doing  valuable  work  during  the  great  war  in 
connection  with  the  Red  Cross  and  Ambulance 
Department.  Long  life  and  much  happiness  is  what 
his  friends  wish  him  and  I  among  the  number. 


CHAPTER  III 

THE    SERBIAN   TRAGEDY 

Engaged  to  be  Married  Again — Wedding  Day — A  Luncheon  Party  at 
Ascot — Some  Literary  friends — Mrs.  Tweedale  Arrested  as  a  Spy — 
Murder  of  King  Alexander  and  Queen  Draga  of  Serbia — Queen 
Draga's  Loss  of  Self-control  Betrays  Her — Why  She  was  Unpopular 
— Captain  Fred  Burnaby  and  Captain  Stuart  Menzies  do  Acro- 
batic Tricks — The  Result — Colonel  Burnaby's  Death — A  Meeting 
with  Garibaldi. 

WHEN  Z left  school  and  went  to  study 
foreign  languages  with  a  tutor,  neither 
of  us  made  any  reference  to  our  engage- 
ment. I  hoped  he  had  forgotten  all  about  it,  he  prob- 
ably hoped  I  had.  Therefore  I  ventured  upon  a  fresh 
engagement,  this  time  to  a  subaltern  in  the High- 
landers. I  made  enquiries  to  see  how  my  former  young 
man  bore  up  under  this  blow,  and  was  given  to  under- 
stand he  showed  no  sign  of  being  broken-hearted.  This 
was  mortifying,  but  saved  inconvenience  and  explana- 
tion. 

My  second  lover  was  more  demonstrative  than  the 
first,  and  in  a  desperate  hurry  to  be  married  as  his 
leave  was  nearly  up,  and  he  had  to  return  to  the  regi- 
ment in  India.  So  one  bright  May  day,  that  month 
supposed  to  be  so  unlucky  for  brides,  I  was  married 
at  our  parish  church,  while  still  nothing  but  a  child. 
My  father  being  squire  it  was  made  a  great  occasion, 
and  I  thought  everybody  had  much  more  fun  than 
the  bride.  On  the  morning  of  my  wedding,  when  I 
heard  people  laughihg  and  talking,  I  wanted  to  go  and 
join  in  the  merriment,  but  was  told  I  must  not  appear 
until  my  father  came  to  take  me  to  the  church.  This 
I  thought  distinctly  hard  and  began  to  think  that 
being  married  was  not  any  fun  at  all,  but  a  very  over- 

44 


THE  SERBIAN  TRAGEDY  45 

rated  amusement,  especially  when  suddenly  a  silence 
came  over  the  whole  house  and  I  realised  all  had  gone 
on  to  the  church,  whilst  I,  the  poor  bride,  the  chief 
actor,  was  left  severely  alone.  I  became  horribly 
depressed. 

Fortunately  I  had  not  long  to  wait.  My  father 
came  into  my  room  very  smart,  in  lavender  waistcoat, 
frock-coat,  etc.,  and  looking  handsomer  than  ever. 
He  kissed  me  and  was  rather  tearful,  which  was  up- 
setting, but  there  was  no  time  for  emotion.  I  was 
hurried  downstairs,  packed  into  a  carriage  drawn  by 
four  grey  horses  with  postillions  in  grey  and  blue,  and 
flourished  off  on  the  first  stage  of  my  great  adventure. 
The  school  children  strewed  flowers  for  me  to  walk  on, 
the  bells  rang  merrily,  though  they  always  make  me 
feel  melancholy.  The  church  was  crammed  with 
people.  I  began  to  recover  my  spirits  a  little,  perhaps 
after  all  it  was  not  so  bad  being  married. 

My  first  blow  was  in  the  vestry,  when  I  found  I  had 
to  sign  myself  ''  spinster.''  This  was  painful  and 
humiliating,  for  I  had  always  in  a  vague  sort  of  way 
regarded  spinsters  as  uninteresting  old  maids  ;  but 
there  was  no  help  for  it,  so  spinster  I  signed  myself. 

At  the  church  gates  after  the  ceremony  my  husband 
and  I  were  presented  with  an  illuminated  address  and 
various  gifts  from  the  farmers  and  parishioners,  to 
whom  I  had  to  make  a  little  speech,  followed  by  one 
from  my  new  lord  and  master,  in  which  he  said  the 
usual  things  about  cherishing  me,  and  bringing  me 
back  soon  to  see  them  all  again.  Then  once  more  I 
was  hurried  off  to  the  breakfast,  and  then  away  from 
the  old  home. 

Thus  I  was  shot  out  into  the  realities  of  life  after 
the  manner  of  those  days,  in  a  condition  of  absolute 
black  ignorance  of  practically  every  fact  of  life  that 
would  be  almost  unbelievable  to  girls  of  that  age  to- 
day— happily  for  them.  The  fact  that  I  had  not  the 
faintest  idea  of  what  I  was  doing  was  a  matter  of 
legitimate  self-congratulation  to  my  parents  as  a 
proof  of  the  success  of  the  upbringing  they  had  be- 


46     MEMORIES  DISCREET  AND  INDISCREET 

stowed  on  their  child.  It  seems  a  little  incongruous 
that  a  man  who,  say,  for  instance,  murdered  an  aged 
aunt,  should  be  regarded  as  such  a  naughty  fellow, 
and  probably  hanged,  while  the  people  who  launched 
their  daughters  into  life  before  they  knew  what  they 
were  about  should  be  adjudged  quite  praiseworthy. 
The  gentleman  who  murdered  his  aunt  had  only 
shortened  an  old  life  while  the  others  had  done  their 
best  to  ruin  a  young  one. 

The  congratulations  I  received  from  an  old  woman 
in  the  village  at  home  still  dwells  in  my  memory.  She 
had  known  me  all  my  life,  and  when  I  told  her  I  was 
going  to  be  married,  with  tears  in  her  eyes  she  put  her 
dear  old  hand  on  my  shoulder  and  with  shaking  head 
said,  **  Poor  dear.'*  This  was  not  inspiring.  She  had 
been  through  a  good  deal  herself  during  her  married 
life  and  presented  her  husband  with  eighteen  children, 
so  she  may  have  had  some  excuse  for  the  form  her 
congratulations  took. 

We  spent  a  good  part  of  that  season  in  Town,  and 
very  important  I  felt  at  being  able  to  chaperone  girls 
much  older  than  myself.  One  of  my  bridesmaids, 
a  very  pretty  daughter  of  Sir  George  Howland  Beau- 
mont, became  engaged,  I  believe,  at  one  of  the  dances 
she  went  to  with  me,  the  happy  man  being  Colonel 
Gawin  Rowan  Hamilton,  of  Killyleagh  Castle,  Co. 
Down,  Ireland,  brother  of  the  present  Dowager  Lady 
Dufferin  and  Ava. 

Thinking  over  those  days,  I  have  come  to  the  con- 
clusion I  was  a  most  useful  person.  That  was  one 
marriage  in  which  I  played  a  part.  Then,  I  introduced 
my  eldest  brother  to  his  present  wife.  She  was  my 
friend  and  used  to  accept  the  hospitality  of  my  people 
for  weeks  and  months  at  a  time.  I  also  introduced 
my  sister's  husband  to  her.  As  I  write  I  have  many 
letters  before  me  that  I  have  just  unearthed,  amongst 
them  several  full  of  expressions  of  lifelong  gratitude 
to  me.  It  is  wise  to  keep  them.  People  sometimes 
change  their  minds. 

I  had  a  large  party  at  Ascot  that  year,  and  sent  the 


THE  SERBIAN  TRAGEDY  47 

luncheon  and  servants  down  from  a  Piccadilly  caterer 
so  that  I  should  have  no  worries  and  anxieties.  Fortu- 
nately I  was  wise  enough  to  order  luncheon  for  about 
ten  more  people  than  I  had  originally  asked  to  share  ^ 
the  feast,  knowing  that  at  race-meetings  so  many  old 
friends  unexpectedly  turn  up,  which  proved  to  be  the 
case  on  this  occasion.  Amongst  our  guests  were  some 
of  my  husband's  brother  officers.  Captain  George 
Chalmers  being  one.  He  was  in  beautiful  gala  attire, 
grey  frock-coat,  grey  trousers,  grey  hat,  with  all  the 
finishing  touches  carefully  thought  out. 

While  at  luncheon  my  husband  kept  bringing  up 
fresh  batches  of  friends  to  be  introduced  to  me  and 
fed,  so  I  sat  down  upon  a  reserve  basket  of  fruit  on 
the  grass  near  me,  to  make  more  room  for  my 
guests.  Captain  Chalmers  came,  hoping  to  make 
still  more  room,  and  sat  down  plump  beside  me.  He 
had  a  plate  in  his  hand,  so  had  I.  The  basket,  which 
was  of  a  frail  nature,  made  to  allow  air  to  reach 
the  fruit  and  so  keep  it  fresh,  of  course  gave  way, 
and  he  went  through  amongst  my  reserve  straw- 
berries, peaches  and  good  things.  I  too  got  my  share 
as  it  is  not  easy  to  save  oneself,  with  a  plate  in  the 
lap,  and  a  spoon  and  fork  in  the  hands  ;  also  when 
once  down,  by  no  means  easy  to  regain  one's  balance 
daintily  and  quickly.  All  our  party  seemed  much 
amused  and  laughed  merrily  at  our  discomfiture, 
while  we  hardly  dared  get  up  to  see  the  extent  of  the 
havoc  wrought  on  our  clothes.  I  was  pulled  up  and 
found  various  splodges  on  my  white  frock.  Captain 
Chalmers  had  fortunately  lifted  his  coat-tails  before 
sitting  down,  so  after  he  had  been  rubbed  down  and 
cleaned  he  was  able  to  appear  again,  provided  he 
moved  with  circumspection.  I  had  to  borrow  a  cloak 
from  one  of  my  guests. 

I  made  up  my  mind  when  I  began  this  book  to  avoid 
as  much  as  possible  conversing  of  the  living,  it  is  so 
invidious,  but  there  are  a  few  people  amongst  my 
friends  so  arresting  I  am  obliged  to  mention  them, 
I  could  not  pass  them  by.     Mrs.  Tweedale  is  one  of 


48     MEMORIES  DISCREET  AND  INDISCREET 

them.  While  on  the  frontier  of  Austria,  not  very 
long  ago,  she  had  a  curious  experience,  being  arrested 
as  a  Russian  spy.  At  the  Customs  she  was  detained, 
her  dispatch-box  containing  several  chapters  of  a 
novel  she  was  writing,  and  a  small  Russian  icon,  were 
taken  from  her.  A  traveller's  typewriter,  fixed  in  an 
aluminium  case,  was  also  confiscated,  being  suspected, 
no  doubt,  of  being  an  infernal  machine  of  some  sort. 

The  officials  were  much  worried  at  not  being  able 
to  translate  the  chapters  of  the  novel  in  the  dispatch- 
box  ;  suddenly  a  happy  thought  struck  one  of  them. 
There  was  an  English-speaking  waiter  in  the  station 
restaurant,  the  very  man  they  wanted.  He  was  sent 
for,  and  ordered  to  translate  into  German  portions  of 
the  manuscript,  meanwhile  Violet  Tweedale  and  the 
officers  sat  round  listening.  After  a  time,  finding 
nothing  very  incriminating  the  waiter  was  released. 

The  typewriter  was  covered  with  important-looking 
seals  and  placed  in  an  empty  truck,  while  Mrs.  Twee- 
dale,  escorted  by  two  officers  carrying  the  dispatch- 
box,  proceeded  to  the  train  and  resumed  the  journey. 
On  arrival  at  her  destination  and  hotel,  she  was  in- 
formed she  must  consider  herself  under  arrest,  as  a 
Russian  spy,  whilst  enquiries  were  instituted. 

Luckily  she  was  allowed  to  communicate  with  her 
husband,  who  had  left  her  for  a  few  days  to  visit 
another  part  of  Austria.  He  at  once  acquainted  the 
British  Embassy  in  Vienna  with  what  had  occurred. 

After  five  days'  arrest,  during  which  time  Mrs. 
Tweedale  was  never  lost  sight  of  by  the  two  Austrian 
officers  under  whose  arrest  she  was,  liberation  came, 
and  an  apology. 

The  dispatch-box  with  the  unfinished  novel  was 
returned  intact,  but  the  typewriter  was  smashed  and 
useless. 

Realising  the  futility  of  being  annoyed  with  her 
guardians,  Mrs.  Tweedale  at  once  entered  into  the 
most  friendly  relations  with  them,  so  the  days  of  her 
arrest  were  not  rendered  so  unpleasant  as  they  might 
have  been.     The  trio  took  long  country  walks  to- 


THE  SERBIAN  TRAGEDY  49 

gether  ;  dined  at  the  same  table,  each  endeavouring 
to  be  agreeable  and  pass  the  time  away.  At  night  the 
officers  took  it  in  turn  to  sit  on  a  chair  outside  her 
door. 

Mrs.  Tweedale  has  always  taken  a  keen  interest  in 
European  politics  and  was  greatly  horrified  when 
King  Alexander  and  Queen  Draga  of  Serbia  were 
assassinated.  She  had  seen  a  great  deal  of  these 
Royalties  and  was  in  the  country  at  the  time. 

Several  books  have  been  written  about  this  tragedy, 
but  I  do  not  think  it  is  generally  known  how  nearly 
the  regicides  failed  in  their  designs.  This  is  what 
really  happened. 

The  King  and  Queen  had  retired  for  the  night  when 
they  heard  the  explosion  of  the  doors  being  blown 
open,  the  general  commotion  going  on  in  the  Palace 
and  the  sound  of  shots  being  fired.  The  Queen  had 
for  some  time  been  in  nervous  anticipation  of  some 
trouble,  knowing  she  was  not  popular,  and  now  it  had 
come. 

They  both  fled  into  a  room  or  large  cupboard  adjoin- 
ing the  Queen's  dressing-room,  where  the  State  robes 
were  kept.  This  place  was  entered  by  one  of  those 
secret  doors  occasionally  met  with  in  the  homely 
palaces  and  country  houses  on  the  Continent.  No 
one  unacquainted  with  the  room  would  have  known 
where  to  find  this  door,  as  it  was  papered  over  to 
match  the  walls  of  the  room,  and  there  was  no  knob 
or  handle  to  attract  attention.  The  door  was  opened 
by  pressing  a  panel,  and  opened  towards  those  wishing 
to  enter.  When  shut  a  little  extra  edge  of  paper  on 
very  thin  matchwood  projecting  beyond  the  door 
exactly  fitted  and  matched  the  pattern  of  the  wall- 
paper, leaving  no  suggestion  of  there  being  any  opening. 

The  murderers  had  been  searching  in  the  cellars  of 
the  Palace,  being  led  there  by  a  faithful  retainer,  who 
hoped  by  so  doing  to  give  the  Royal  couple  time  to 
hide  or  escape.  Not  finding  those  they  sought, 
the  ruffians  shot  their  guide  and  proceeded  to  the 
private  apartments  of  the  King  and  Queen,  but  they 


50     MEMORIES  DISCREET  AND  INDISCREET 

were  empty,  and  they  came  to  the  conclusion  the  couple 
had  escaped.  The  disappointed  and  drunken  assassins 
then  began  smashing  the  furniture  and  shooting  indis- 
criminately right  and  left;  one  shot  penetrated  the 
secret  door  and  poor  terrified  Queen  Draga  screamed  ! 
This  betrayed  their  hiding-place.  In  a  few  minutes 
both  were  brutally  murdered,  their  faces  slashed  and 
hacked  and  their  bodies  also  otherwise  mutilated. 
They  were  then  thrown  out  of  the  window  into  the 
garden  below,  where  their  bodies  remained  until  next 
day,  when  a  gardener  was  told  to  turn  a  hose  on 
them  and  wash  away  some  of  the  signs  of  butchery. 
After  this  they  were  put  into  common  deal  packing- 
cases  and  buried  in  paupers'  graves. 

But  for  that  fatal  scream,  that  want  of  self-control 
and  presence  of  mind,  there  is  every  reason  to  believe 
the  King  and  Queen  might  both  have  escaped  and  the 
tragedy  been  averted.  If  only  they  had  been  able  to 
remain  in  hiding  until  day  came,  and  with  day  help, 
all  might  have  been  well,  for  it  must  not  be  forgotten 
that  the  murder  plot  was  only  the  work  of  some  eighty 
conspirators,  led  by  the  officers  of  the  guard.  The 
people  of  Belgrade  had  no  hand  in  the  affair.  The 
accompanying  photograph  is  a  snapshot  taken  by 
my  friend,  Mr.  Tweedale,  of  his  wife  standing  by  the 
graves  of  Draga  and  Alexander  just  after  they  were 
buried  by  the  regicides.  At  the  time  the  photograph 
was  taken  there  were  still  groups  of  the  jeering  mur- 
derers and  their  followers  about  the  graves.  A  few 
planks  were  placed  over  the  open  holes  only  four  feet 
deep,  the  deal  cases  containing  the  remains  of  the 
once  King  and  Queen  being  plainly  visible.  The 
crosses  at  the  head  of  the  graves  were  made  of  plain 
deal,  the  letters  being  painted  in  red. 

The  King  was  popular  and  the  world  knows  the 
story  of  the  Queen's  unpopularity,  the  marriage 
being  considered  a  mesalliance.  She  was  a  widow 
when  the  King  became  attracted  to  her.  As  far  as 
I  could  gather  the  two  chief  grievances  against  the 
unhappy  woman   were  that   she  used  her  influence 


MRS.    VIOLET   TWEEDAI.E   AT   QUEEN    DRAGA's   GRAVE 


THE  SERBIAN  TRAGEDY  51 

with  the  King  badly,  and  that  she  failed  to  provide 
him  with  a  son.  No  doubt  this  was  the  crown- 
ing act  of  indiscretion,  particularly  as  the  Court 
physician  said  there  never  would  be  an  heir. 

With  regard  to  the  first  accusation  the  malcontents 
seem  to  have  had  some  grounds  for  their  grievance, 
for  in  the  early  days  before  the  King  married  her,  he 
was  very  unwise  in  the  way  he  paid  his  addresses, 
and  Draga  was  more  than  foolish  in  her  display  of  his 
jewels,  splendidly  appointed  horses  and  carriages, 
and  the  way  she  openly  followed  him  about  the 
country  from  place  to  place. 

I  have  always  been  somewhat  exercised  in  my  mind 
as  to  Queen  Draga's  attitude  with  regard  to  the 
second  cause  of  the  trouble.  If  she  married  King 
Alexander,  knowing  as  she  may  have  done  that  she 
could  never  bear  him  an  heir,  he  being  the  last  of  his 
line,  then,  indeed,  her  selfishness  was  very  great.  If, 
on  the  other  hand,  it  was  a  painful  surprise  when  the 
doctors  informed  her  of  the  fact,  she  deserves  all  our 
sympathy  and  pity. 

Mrs.  Tweedale  and  her  husband,  who  know  Germany 
intimately,  had  been  making  a  number  of  public 
speeches  on  the  coming  war  in  the  years  immediately 
preceding  it,  both  being  intimately  acquainted  by 
personal  observation  with  Germany's  great  strength 
and  her  preparations. 

I  have  admired  Mrs.  Tweedale 's  pluck  and  grit 
on  more  than  one  occasion.  She  was  speaking  once 
for  an  hour  every  night,  when  Captain  Charles 
Bum  was  standing  for  Exeter,  after  which  she 
would  sometimes  jump  into  her  car  and  go  off  to  help 
Mr.  Morrison  Bell  when  standing  for  East  Devon. 
On  one  occasion  when  a  political  star,  who  was  engaged 
and  advertised  to  address  the  electors,  did  not  turn 
up,  she  vaUantly  took  his  place  and  kept  everyone 
interested  and  happy  for  two  hours  until  the  good 
man  turned  up. 

I  have  lately  been  discussing  the  war  with  Mrs. 
Tweedale.     She   knows  intimately  all  the   countries 


52     MEMORIES  DISCREET  AND  INDISCREET 

of  the  belligerents.  It  has  been  interesting,  and  she 
thinks  England's  weakest  spot  is  her  neglect  of  foreign 
languages ;  this  has  come  home  to  many  of  us 
lately.  A  surprising  and  almost  incredible  story 
reached  me  a  short  time  ago  from  the  front  in  Flanders. 
I  was  told  as  a  fact  that  when  the  Allies  had  their 
first  Conference  in  Paris,  the  only  country  repre- 
sented there  unable  to  make  itself  understood  without 
the  aid  of  an  interpreter  was  England.  There  was, 
however,  one  exception — Sir  William  Robertson,  at 
that  time  Chief  of  the  Imperial  Staff,  a  man  who  had 
risen  from  the  ranks  I  It  does  not  speak  well  for  our 
public-school  training  when  our  Cabinet  Ministers  are 
unable  to  make  themselves  understood  in  the  language 
adopted  by  all  nations  in  their  diplomatic  intercourse. 

I  can  hardly  believe  Lord  Kitchener  could  not  make 
himself  understood,  for  I  know  he  could  speak  French, 
and  I  should  have  thought  that  if  he  could  bring  the 
Fashoda  situation  to  so  successful  an  issue,  he  must 
have  been  able  to  speak  French. 

A  volume  of  recollections  is  a  series  of  big  jumps,  a 
veritable  Grand  National. 

I  am  now  about  to  take  a  very  big  jump  from  King 
Alexander  and  Queen  Draga,  with  the  Tweedales 
thrown  in,  to  Colonel  Burnaby,  who  had  a  most 
romantic  career,  though  passed  in  a  prosaic  era ! 
A  restless  wonderful  man,  never  happy  unless  passing 
through  some  fiery  ordeal  of  adventure,  crossing  the 
Channel  in  a  balloon,  riding  to  Khiva,  and  such-like 
little  enterprises.  I  have  never  been  in  a  balloon,  but 
there  does  not  appear  to  be  much  room  in  them  for 
such  big  men  as  Colonel  Burnaby,  who  stood  six  feet 
four  inches  in  his  socks,  and  had  a  chest  measurement 
of  forty-six  inches,  or  Captain  Templer,  who  was,  I 
believe,  in  the  6oth  Rifles  before  he  became  a  Govern- 
ment aeronaut ;  he  was  a  big  man,  tall  and  broad. 
How  cramped  they  must  get ! 

When  I  first  knew  Colonel  Burnaby  he  was  in  the 
Royal  Horse  Guards,  just  before  he  gained  his  majority. 
He  was  the  son  of  one  of  the  good  old  sporting  parsons. 


THE  SERBIAN  TRAGEDY  53 

From  all  I  hear,  he  and  my  grandfather  were  much  of 
the  same  calibre,  both  of  a  proud  and  dignified  bearing, 
inspiring  respect  and  awe,  living  in  some  state,  hunt- 
ing, attending  race-meetings,  with  well-turned-out 
carriages,  horses  and  servants.  The  sporting  parson 
was  generally  greatly  esteemed  by  his  flock.  I  was 
boasting  one  day  to  Colonel  Burnaby  of  a  feat  of  my 
husband's  in  his  early  youth,  when  he  started  from 
our  landing-stage  on  the  Derwent,  which  runs  through 
the  Park  of  our  Yorkshire  home,  in  a  small  canoe  with 
only  a  paddle  and  an  umbrella  to  use  as  a  sail.  He 
travelled  down  the  river  to  its  mouth,  then  round  to 
Hull  and  back  again  without  mishap.  My  little  boast 
was  quite  thrown  into  the  shade  by  an  account  Colonel 
Burnaby  gave  me  of  a  jaunt  of  his  own  when  at 
Harrow.  He  started  alone  at  the  age  of  thirteen  on 
a  journey  of  some  hundreds  of  miles  in  a  boat,  return- 
ing in  three  weeks,  having  been  on  the  move  all  the 
time. 

I  used  to  hear  Colonel  Burnaby  spoken  of  as  the 
strongest  man  in  the  English  army,  as,  indeed,  I  think 
he  may  well  have  been,  for  I  have  seen  him  do  pro- 
digious things.  I  remember  my  husband  bringing  him 
in  one  night  from  the  club,  with  a  few  other  old  friends, 
when  we  were  staying  at  the  Langham  Hotel  in  Lon- 
don. My  partner  was  somewhat  of  an  athlete,  and 
had  won  various  medals  and  prizes  for  running  and 
walking.  Soon  they  began  to  do  tricks,  which  went 
on  into  the  early  dawn,  amusing  me  so  much  I  felt  I 
could  not  go  to  bed,  but  must  stay  and  watch.  They 
began,  that  is  to  say,  Burnaby  and  my  husband  began, 
with  a  hopping  match  over  the  chairs  placed  in  a  row 
equal  distances  apart.  This  was  a  dead  heat,  but  was 
an  expensive  game,  as  Burnaby  was  no  light-weight, 
and  we  were  informed  next  morning  that  the  con- 
cussion had  brought  down  a  chandelier  in  the  room 
below.  Rather  doubtful  whether  the  extent  of  the 
mischief  was  as  bad  as  it  had  been  painted,  we  went 
to  see  what  damage  was  done,  and  there  truly  enough 
lay  more   or  less  wrecked  one   of  those  enormities, 


54     MEMORIES  DISCREET  AND  INDISCREET 

which  consisted  of  endless  hanging  glass  icicles,  much 
valued  and  very  fashionable  at  one  time.  Of  course 
the  one  in  question  was  valuable  according  to  the 
hotel  manager. 

But  more  gymnastic  feats  were  performed  before 
morning  arrived  and  we  were  confronted  by  the 
results.  After  the  hopping  match  Bumaby  vaulted 
over  a  largish  round  table  in  the  middle  of  the  room, 
using  his  left  hand,  and  without  the  least  apparent 
effort.  My  husband  then  followed  suit,  not  so  success- 
fully ;  he  ceilainly  eventually  arrived  at  the  other  side, 
and  that  is  all  I  can  say.  A  cousin  of  mine  in  the 
Black  Watch  who  was  in  the  room  at  the  time  said, 
"  You  can't  lift  the  '  Old  Man  '  "  (this  was  a  name 
given  to  my  husband  by  his  chosen  and  familiar 
friends  in  consequence  of  his  hair  being  white  at  the 
age  of  twenty-five)  ''  with  one  hand.''  The  *'  Old 
Man  "  looked  anxious,  as  six  feet  four  inches  advanced 
towards  him,  and  seized  him  by  the  back  of  his  collar 
and  coat,  popping  him  down  at  the  other  side  of  the 
table  much  as  a  dog  would  a  rat.  Although  slight  my 
husband  was  above  the  average  height. 

Colonel  Bumaby  nearly  always  called  his  horses  by 
Biblical  names.  I  can  remember  a  "  Moses,"  *'  Boaz  " 
and  a  "Nimshi."  Although  a  good  horseman,  I  never 
thought  he  looked  well  on  a  horse,  too  untidy  and  all 
abroad  as  they  say  in  the  south.  On  State  occasions 
when  he  rode  before  the  Queen  as  Silver  Stick  and 
Colonel  of  the  Blues,  he  managed  to  brace  himself  up 
and  look  smart. 

He  was  rather  a  trial  to  his  valet,  as  in  the  first 
place  he  would  wear  cheap  boots,  and  what  is  almost 
worse,  if  it  were  possible  he  would  manage  to  fasten 
up  his  waistcoat  wrongly,  leaving  a  button  somewhere 
not  doing  its  duty,  its  proper  button-hole  being 
engaged  elsewhere.  Yet  his  servants  were  much 
attached  to  him.  Most  people  have  heard  of  his 
devoted  soldier  servant  Radstock,  and  of  his  master's 
tender  nursing  of  him  during  his  last  illness. 

A  weakness  for  puns  was  a  little  failing  of  Burnaby's, 


THE  SERBIAN  TRAGEDY  55 

and  at  the  time  when  he  was  piqued  with  Colonel 
Owen  Williams  and  there  seemed  every  likelihood  of 
a  flare  up,  he  told  me  his  views  on  the  matter  and  his 
opinions  of  his  one-time  friend,  winding  up  with, 
"  Never  mind,  I  am  owing  Williams  one  !  "  The  fact 
that  he  did  not  get  on  very  well  with  his  superior 
officers,  and  at  times  with  his  brother-officers,  did  not 
trouble  him  a  little  bit  ;  he  used  to  laugh  about  it  and 
went  on  his  way  rejoicing.  One  of  the  chief  causes  of 
offence  to  his  superiors  was  that,  when  he  asked  for 
leave  and  it  was  not  granted,  he  usually  managed  to 
circumvent  the  authorities  and  turn  up  wherever  he 
wished  to  be.  Daringly  independent  he  cared  nothing 
for  a  wigging. 

One  of  the  reasons  why  he  did  not  always  **  hit  it 
off "  with  some  of  his  brother  officers,  Burnaby 
declared,  was  because  he  did  not  wear  stays,  paint  his 
face,  wax  his  moustache  and  dye  his  hair. 

There  is,  however,  no  denying  that  he  was  untidy, 
although  he  would  never  admit  it.  A  certain  lock  or 
two  of  hair,  which  should  have  been  swept  back  off  his 
brow,  had  a  way  of  almost  invariably  hanging  down 
over  it.    This  helped  to  give  him  an  untidy  appearance. 

When  he  crossed  the  Channel  by  balloon  in  1882 
he  left  England  without  permission,  so  on  his  return 
the  Duke  of  Cambridge  was  turned  on  to  him,  but 
the  Duke  spoke  very  nicely,  for  I  happen  to  know 
he  was  much  interested  in  the  enterprise,  and  admired 
Burnaby 's  pluck,  and  said  he  would  like  to  go  up  in  a 
balloon  himself  with  Burnaby,  only  he  feared  '*  there 
would  be  such  a  hullabaloo.'' 

The  aircraft  of  to-day  fascinate  me,  but  I  decline 
to  go  up  in  a  balloon,  too  much  has  to  be  left  to  chance 
and  luck  to  please  me.  Not  many  women  have  taken 
up  ballooning,  but  Mrs.  May  Harbord  loves  it. 

There  have  been  various  conflicting  accounts  of  how 
Colonel  Burnaby  met  his  death  at  Abu  Klea,  and  it 
is  curious  that  out  of  the  accounts  given  to  me  by 
friends  present  at  the  battle,  no  two  are  alike.  Lord 
Binning's  of  the  Blues  was  the  most  graphic,  but  too 


56     MEMORIES  DISCREET  AND  INDISCREET 

long  to  quote  verbatim.  From  it  I  gathered  that 
when  the  square  was  broken  by  the  camels  being 
wounded  and  unable  to  advance  with  the  troops,  the 
enemy  quickly  saw  the  weak  spot  and  rushed  it. 
Lord  Binning  saw  Burnaby  riding  backwards  and 
forwards  on  "  Moses  '*  trying  to  get  the  men  to  fall 
back  quickly  and  then  lost  sight  of  him  in  the  melee. 
When  the  battle  was  won  and  there  was  time  to  think 
and  breathe  again,  a  general  cry  arose  of  ''  Where's 
Burnaby  ?  "  Lord  Binning  went  in  search  of  him, 
and  a  little  way  from  the  square  found  him  on  the 
ground  dying,  with  his  head  lying  in  the  lap  of  a  young 
private  in  the  Bays.  The  lad  was  crying  bitterly,  and 
said,  **  Oh,  Sir,  here's  the  bravest  man  in  England 
dying,  and  no  one  to  help  him."  Colonel  Burnaby 
tried  to  speak,  and  seemed  to  recognise  his  friend,  but 
was  dying  fast  from  loss  of  blood  from  three  mortal 
wounds  :  a  spear  wound  in  the  throat,  a  bullet  wound 
in  the  forehead,  and  part  of  his  head  cut  away.  Lord 
Binning  remarked  that  it  was  wonderful  that  he  had 
lived  as  long  as  he  did  with  three  such  ghastly  wounds. 
Poor  ''  Moses  "  was  lying  near  his  master  covered  with 
spear  wounds. 

On  the  other  hand,  Mr.  Melton  Prior  told  me  that 
when  Colonel  Burnaby  met  his  death  he  was  outside 
the  square  fighting  six  Arabs  single-handed,  and  that 
when  he  heard  an  order  shouted  to  retire  he  turned 
his  head  to  see  who  gave  it ;  this  gave  his  opponents 
their  opportunity  and  they  at  once  speared  him  in  the 
throat. 

Another  friend  writing  to  me  almost  directly  after 
the  battle  describes  it  thus  : 

"  Burnaby  was  on  the  back  of  Moses  when  the 

poor  beast  was  killed.     B continued  to  fight  on 

foot  with  his  four-barrelled  Lancaster  pistol,  but  fell 
from  loss  of  blood  from  three  wounds,  each  one  serious 
enough  to  have  killed  him." 

Yet  another  account  tells  me  :  ''It  was  Burnaby 's 
own  fault  he  was  killed,  he  asked  for  it ;  went  out  of 
the  square  as  if  he  wished  to  fight  the  lot  single- 


THE  SERBIAN  TRAGEDY  57 

handed,  and  by  so  doing  jeopardised  the  square,  and 
if  we  had  lost  the  battle  it  would  have  been  Burnaby's 
fault  and  his  alone." 

A  letter  written  quite  recently  by  one  of  the  Blues 
who  took  part  in  the  engagement  says  : 

**  Burnaby  arrived  the  day  before  Abu  Klea,  and 
we  were  told  he  had  been  sent  up  to  take  command 
in  case  anything  happened  to  Herbert  Stewart,  who 
was  in  command  as  second  senior  officer.  Sir  Charles 
Wilson,  though  a  clever  man  and  excellent  political 
officer,  had  never  commanded  a  regiment  in  his  life. 
Eroll  was  not  there,  but  when  the  Arabs  from  without 
and  the  camels  from  within  broke  the  square  formation 
in  which  we  were  fighting,  Burnaby  went  out  of  the 
square  near  to  our  (the  Blues')  face. 

'*  Binning,  seeing  him  wounded  and  in  difficulties, 
went  and  spoke  to  him,  but  he  was  mortally  wounded 
in  several  places,  and  notably  by  a  shot  in  the  forehead 
at  the  roots  of  the  hair.  Burnaby  went  out  [from 
England]  on  his  own  hook,  I  believe,  and  Sir  Garnet 
Wolseley  wanting  a  man  employed  him  at  once  and 
pushed  him  up  to  our  column. 

*'  Binning  did  tell  me  he  was  killed  while  the  fighting 
was  still  going  on,  as  I  was  busy  trying  to  shut  the 
face  of  the  square  and  get  the  ammunition  and  camels 
back  inside  it.  Stewart  being  mortally  wounded  two 
days  afterwards  at  Abu  Kru  and  Burnaby  being 
killed,  we  found  ourselves  under  Sir  Charles  Wilson 
surrounded  by  the  Arabs.  Luckily  Charlie  Beresford 
was  there,  Star  Boscowen  (Falmouth),  and  Mildmay 
Wilson,  or  we  should  be  there  still  under  ground.'' 

I  have  been  told  by  a  friend  who  was  at  the  side  of 
Colonel  Burnaby  when  he  died  that  his  face  alone  of 
all  the  dead  and  dying  that  lay  around  him  bore  a 
smile,  the  smile  we  all  knew  so  well ;  and  I  have 
always  hoped  perhaps  he  heard  the  cheers  of  victory 
before  the  end  came. 

All  who  have  ever  spoken  to  me  of  this  time  said 
Colonel  Burnaby 's  death  caused  a  feehng  of  consterna- 
tion.    This  hero  of  so  many  fights,  so  many  narrow 


58     MEMORIES  DISCREET  AND  INDISCREET 

escapes,  dead  ;  and  not  one  but  many  of  the  men 
cried  over  his  dead  body. 

In  England,  at  the  very  time  he  was  dying,  the 
authorities  were  talking  about  court-martialling  him 
on  his  return  for  having  gone  out  to  the  Soudan  with- 
out leave — they  were  saved  the  trouble. 

As  I  look  back  over  the  years  I  knew  Burnaby  I 
think  what  I  noticed  more  markedly  than  almost  any- 
thing else  was  his  intolerance  of  conventions  ;  his 
very  attitudes  and  way  of  sitting  down  were  protests 
against  convention. 

I  have  lately  been  turning  over  some  old  letters 
refreshing  my  memory  of  these  old  times,  and  have 
come  across  some  notes  of  Colonel  Burnaby's  :  his 
writing  was  like  that  of  a  child  having  its  hand  held 
and  taking  great  pains.  One  of  these  notes  refers  to 
a  promise  he  had  made  me  of  introducing  to  me  Gari- 
baldi, whom  I  had  told  him  I  should  much  like  to 
meet.  Colonel  Burnaby 's  promises  were  not  made  of 
the  proverbial  pie-crust,  and  although  I  had  quite  for- 
gotten he  had  said  he  thought  he  could  arrange  a 
meeting  between  the  lovable  old  revolutionist  and 
myself,  his  note  told  me  that  Garibaldi  was  expected 
in  England  very  shortly,  and  when  would  I  be  ready 
to  receive  the  Red  Shirt  ? 

I  was  staying  at  the  Alexandra  Hotel,  Knight sbridge, 
at  the  time,  and  the  meeting  was  to  take  place  there. 
My  husband  fled  when  he  heard  he  would  have  to 
speak  in  French,  so  I  received  my  guests  alone  ;  they 
presented  a  remarkable  contrast  as  they  entered  the 
room.  Colonel  Burnaby,  looking  a  Hercules  with  his 
broad  shoulders  and  abnormally  long  legs,  smiling  as 
was  his  wont  all  across  his  face,  with  his  untidy  re- 
bellious lock  of  hair  falling  as  usual  across  his  forehead. 
Beside  him  the  poor  old  man  suffering  much  from 
rheumatism,  the  son  of  a  poor  Nice  fisherman,  with 
the  manners  of  a  courtier  and  a  soft  almost  pleading 
voice  for  which  alone  I  shall  always  remember  him. 
I  had  been  warned  by  Burnaby  that  I  should  have  to 
talk  Italian  or  French.    He  was  a  born  linguist,  I  am 


THE  SERBIAN  TRAGEDY  59 

not,  and  my  Italian  being  of  the  order  of  the  school- 
room Miss,  taught  just  enough  to  be  able  to  sing 
Italian  songs  without  giving  herself  away,  I  decided 
to  try  French,  although  I  must  confess  I  am  not  as 
expert  even  in  that  as  I  should  be,  considering  my 
many  opportunities.  But  never  did  an  hour  pass  more 
pleasantly  for  me,  never  did  I  feel  less  ignorant,  thanks 
to  the  charming  manners  and  understanding  of  General 
Garibaldi,  who  seemed  to  anticipate  and  understand 
what  I  wished  to  say  almost  before  I  spoke.  We  all 
paid  each  other  charming  compliments.  The  General 
spoke  with  affection  of  Colonel  Burnaby,  while  he  in 
return  told  me  of  the  General's  individual  influence 
and  power  that  had  worked  so  powerfully  in  Italy. 

He  drew  the  old  man  into  talking  of  some  of  his 
astonishing  enterprises.  I  ventured  to  suggest  that 
Count  Cavour  and  Mazzini  had  thrown  all  the  weight 
of  their  rebellious  spirit  on  to  his,  Garibaldi's,  shoulders, 
letting  him  do  all  the  work  and  reap  all  the  punish- 
ments that  should  have  been  theirs  if  punishment  were 
deserved.  He  smiled  his  sad,  sad  smile,  and  said  he 
had  been  a  very  willing  tool,  that  those  who  had  the 
fire  burning  in  them  and  who  had  nothing  to  lose  were 
the  proper  people  to  do  the  work,  and  it  had  been  a 
work  of  love  for  his  country.  I  asked  him  if  his  life 
could  be  lived  over  again,  would  he  pursue  the  same 
policy.  He  replied, ''  Yes,  given  the  same  conditions.'' 
I  wondered  why,  if  he  was  so  content  with  his  life,  he 
had  such  a  sad  look  in  his  eyes,  whether  it  was  the 
outcome  of  thwarted  desires,  ambitions,  and  hopes. 
Not  that  he  had  any  ambitions  for  himself,  they  were 
all  for  Italy — he  had  refused  riches,  preferring  to  remain 
poor. 

I  asked  him  to  tell  me  of  the  Countess  della  Torre, 
who  acted  as  his  Joan  of  Arc,  riding  at  the  head  of  his 
Who's  Who  Legion,  wearing  the  same  Red  Shirt  as 
all  his  army.  A  sparkle  came  into  his  eyes  ;  he  said 
she  was  splendid,  she  was  superb,  she  was  brave,  and 
sang  as  she  rode  along,  inspiring  all  his  plucky  rabble, 
and  she  was  a  mother  to  them  all. 


6o     MEMORIES  DISCREET  AND  INDISCREET 

Every  now  and  then  I  became  entangled  with  my 
flow  of  French,  then  Colonel  Bumaby  came  to  the 
rescue  and  carried  on  for  me.  Garibaldi  spoke  with 
gratitude  of  the  way  the  English  people  had  treated 
him,  of  the  way  they  had  received  him  when  he 
visited  this  country  in  1864,  and  expressed  his  great 
pleasure  at  the  way  the  English  people  had  responded 
to  his  call  for  help,  of  the  many  of  all  sorts  and  sizes 
who  had  joined  his  army. 

At  the  end  of  this  delightful  visit  Garibaldi  stooped 
down  and  kissed  my  hand,  saying  he  hoped  we  should 
meet  again,  but  he  was  growing  an  old  man. 

He  lived  just  three  years  after  this.  His  hand- 
writing was  fine  and  pointed  like  the  running  hand  of 
the  ladies  in  the  early  sixties.  The  Italian  language 
and  characters  rather  lends  itself  to  this. 

I  have  not  forgotten  that  it  was  to  Colonel  Bumaby 
I  owe  the  pleasure  of  meeting  the  pathetic  old  Revolu- 
tionist. 


CHAPTER  IV 

A   CARDINAL   AND    A  CANAL 

Cardinal  Manning  Comes  to  Luncheon — A  Faux  Pas — A  surprise — 
Cardinal  Manning  and  Cardinal  Newman  Disagree — I  Sail  for 
India — Tea  at  Ismailia  with  Mons.  Lesseps — He  Recounts  Some 
of  His  Difficulties  and  the  Opening  of  the  Canal. 

MY  husband's  leave  being  nearly  at  an  end,  he 
had  to  return  to  India  alone,  as  I  was  not 
strong  enough  at  the  time  for  the  journey  ; 
it  being  arranged  I  should  follow  in  the  spring.  Mean- 
while I  stayed  a  good  deal  with  my  people  in  York- 
shire. My  youngest  brother  being  at  home,  and  he 
being  a  most  amusing  person,  we  managed  to  pass  the 
time  pleasantly.  My  father  and  my  brother  being 
witty,  there  was  no  chance  of  feeling  dull ;  they  both 
excelled  in  telling  good  stories  against  themselves. 
Add  to  this  the  boundless  hospitality  of  the  dear  old 
people,  who  were  kind  enough  to  say  they  loved 
having  us  back,  and  the  picture  of  my  surroundings 
at  that  time  is  more  or  less  complete. 

It  was  during  this  autumn  visit  that  Cardinal 
Manning,  an  old  friend  of  my  mother's,  came  to  stay 
at  Coulby.  I  believe  he  had  high  hopes  of  her  joining 
his  Church,  which  hope  was  eventually  passed  on  to 
me,  both  cases  ending  in  disappointment.  All  the 
Catholics  in  the  county  were,  of  course,  anxious  to 
meet  this  holy  man.  A  big  luncheon  was  therefore 
given  to  afford  them  an  opportunity  of  seeing  and 
conversing  with  him. 

In  the  morning,  when  my  mother  was  giving  the 
orders  for  the  day,  she  told  my  father  to  be  sure  not 
to  forget  to  ask  the  Cardinal  to  say  grace  before 
luncheon.     Being  a  somewhat  absent-minded  person 

6i 


62     MEMORIES  DISCREET  AND  INDISCREET 

she  also  impressed  upon  him  that  he  must  not  go  out 
shooting  and  forget  he  had  to  appear  at  luncheon. 

He  vowed  he  would  not  forget.  My  brother  and 
I  had  grave  doubts  about  his  remembering,  and 
arranged  between  us  a  system  by  which  at  the  last 
moment  we  could  remind  him.  Our  system  was  not 
called  into  action,  as  father  turned  up  in  time  for 
luncheon.  The  Cardinal  and  his  secretary  descended 
from  the  privacy  of  the  rooms  that  had  been  set  apart 
for  them,  in  which  to  attend  to  their  correspondence 
and  so  forth.  When  all  were  seated  at  the  table,  my 
father  stood  up  and,  looking  towards  the  Cardinal, 
said,  in  a  clear  and  rather  pompous  voice,  '*  Will  Your 
Grace  say  Eminence  ? ''  We  all  bent  our  heads 
becomingly,  and  his  *'  Grace  "  said  ''  Eminence  "  as 
if  nothing  unusual  had  been  requested,  but  from  under 
my  drooping  eyelids  I  peeped  at  my  brother,  who  at 
the  same  moment  peeped  at  me,  after  which  we  found 
it  difficult  to  keep  our  faces  from  betraying  our  feelings 
of  amusement. 

Our  surprises  were  not  yet  over  for  the  day,  though 
the  food  had  been  blessed,  and  thanks  returned  for  it, 
for  when  the  servants  announced  that  the  carriage 
was  at  the  door  to  take  the  Cardinal  away  to  the 
station,  everybody,  much  to  the  surprise  of  myself 
and  brother,  flocked  after  the  good  man,  into  the 
front  hall  portico,  anywhere  and  everywhere  that 
they  could  find  room,  throwing  themselves  down  on 
their  knees  asking  his  blessing.  Here  again  my  breath 
was  taken  away,  it  being  my  first  experience  of  the 
reverence  Catholics  have  for  the  dignitaries  of  their 
Church.  I  looked  at  my  brother,  who  was  pale  green 
from  his  endeavours  not  to  laugh  at  the  unexpected- 
ness of  everybody  falling  on  their  knees.  An  old 
lady  suddenly  fell  on  her  knees  in  front  of  him,  he 
tried  to  pick  her  up,  with  expressions  of  sorrow  at  the 
possibility  of  her  having  hurt  herself.  He  only  met 
with  rebuff,  being  angrily  shaken  off.  I  edged  my 
way  through  the  crowd  to  where  my  brother  was,  lean- 
ing against  one  of  the  big  stone  pillars  of  the  front  door, 


A  CARDINAL  AND  A  CANAL  63 

and  touched  his  arm  to  attract  his  attention  to  the 
butler  who  was  standing  in  the  middle  of  the  hall. 
Long  service  had  taught  him  never  to  be  surprised 
at  anything  ;  there  he  stood  surrounded  by  kneeling 
people  while  he  was  trying  to  keep  a  big  fur  rug  with 
many  hanging  tails  of  silver  fox  from  tickling  their 
noses;  he  had  been  on  the  way  to  wrap  it  himself 
round  His  Holiness^s  legs,  a  great  concession  if  only 
the  good  man  had  known  it.  His  good  intentions  had 
been  cut  short  by  everybody  round  him  falling  on  their 
knees,  but  not  a  muscle  of  his  face  moved  ;  he  stood 
erect,  eyes  front  the  whole  time.  I  was  beginning  to 
feel  hysterical. 

It  was  really  a  most  impressive  sight  and  nothing 
to  laugh  at  ;  it  was  the  unexpectedness  of  it  all  that 
was  upsetting.  My  brother  heard  the  footman  whisper 
to  an  understudy,  ''  Hought  we  to  kneel  down,  do  you 
think  ?  ''  receiving  the  reply,  *'  Not  likely,  look  at 
Mr.  'Arrison  "  (Harrison  the  butler). 

The  first  shock  of  surprise  having  worn  off,  we  were 
feeling  impressed  with  the  picturesqueness  of  the 
scene  and  the  earnestness  of  the  Catholics,  and  when 
I  saw  my  dear  old  father,  who  had  a  great  respect  and 
reverence  for  religion  in  any  form,  go  down  on  his 
knees  to  be  blessed  and  saw  the  beautiful  ascetic 
face  of  the  priest  bending  over  him,  laying  his  hands 
softly  on  the  dear  head  I  had  watched  grow  grey,  I 
put  my  hand  into  my  brother's  and  we  shut  our  eyes 
and  prayed  too  for  blessings  on  the  kindest  of  fathers. 

Many  times  that  scene  has  come  back  to  me,  often 
in  strange  out-of-the-way  places ;  the  picture  of 
Cardinal  Manning  stepping  into  the  carriage,  turning 
for  a  moment,  lifting  up  his  hands  and,  moving  them 
as  if  to  collect  and  embrace  all  present,  in  a  clear  voice 
asking  God's  blessing  on  the  inmates  of  the  house,  and 
all  present.  There  seemed  to  come  a  hush  over  every 
living  thing.  The  coachman,  who  had  been  looking 
amused,  took  off  his  hat  in  an  apologetic  sort  of  way  ; 
even  the  horses  seemed  to  feel  something  in  the  air 
and  ceased  champing  their  bits. 


64     MEMORIES  DISCREET  AND  INDISCREET 

It  was  some  years  before  I  met  Cardinal  Manning 
again.  He  was  then  Archbishop  of  Westminster,  and 
wrote  to  me  a  touchingly  kind  letter  on  hearing  the 
terrible  sorrow  that  had  come  to  me  in  losing  my  little 
son.  From  then,  to  the  time  of  the  Cardinal's  death, 
we  were  in  touch  with  one  another.  He  was  most 
anxious  I  should  find  comfort  in  the  faith  that  was 
so  much  to  him  ;  like  all  converts  he  was  an  enthu- 
siastic and  energetic  worker  for  the  faith  of  his  adop- 
tion, though  certainly  he  was  more  tolerant  and  gentle 
with  people  not  his  way  of  thinking  than  is  often  the 
case,  to  which  I  attribute  much  of  his  popularity  and 
successful  work  for  the  Master  he  served  and  so  truly 
loved.  He  possessed  that  rare  gift  of  being  able  to 
express  other  people's  thoughts  and  feelings  in  lan- 
guage to  meet  their  tastes,  whether  from  tact  or 
sympathy  I  know  not,  possibly  from  a  combination  of 
the  two. 

One  of  the  peculiarities  of  the  Cardinal  was  that 
he  looked  much  taller  than  he  was  ;  his  dignified 
carriage  and  ascetic  appearance,  I  think,  must  have 
created  this  impression;  he  was,  in  reality,  just  above 
medium  height. 

From  his  appearance  you  would  have  imagined  he 
dined  off  orange  juice  and  French  beans,  or  some  such 
light  nourishment,  whereas  he  thoroughly  enjoyed  a 
good  meal,  quite  unHke  Father  Stanton  of  St.  Albans 
fame,  who  never  knew  what  he  was  eating  ;  it  was 
**  food  '*  and  that  was  all  that  mattered,  often  eaten 
while  roving  up  and  down  the  room.  Cardinal  Manning 
knew  exactly  what  he  was  eating  and  the  proper  con- 
sistency of  the  sauces  as  they  should  be.  It  was 
rather  refreshing  to  find  he  could  be  of  this  world  as 
well  as  in  it. 

I  do  not  think  he  aggressively  valued  his  power 
and  position,  though  undoubtedly  he  appreciated  the 
advantages  it  afforded  him.  He  had  a  great  under- 
standing of  humanity  and  by  no  means  considered  it 
the  proper  thing  when  affronted  to  turn  the  other 
cheek,  for  which  people  respected  him. 


A  CARDINAL  AND  A  CANAL  65 

There  is  a  story  that  once  The  Times  ventured  to 
criticise  an  address  he  had  been  giving,  and  suggested 
His  Eminence  had  become  a  trifle  mixed  between 
cause  and  effect.  This  was  not  allowed  to  pass  un- 
noticed, and  he  replied  telling  them  their  criticism 
sounded  like  the  would-be  clever  remarks  of  an  under- 
graduate, but  perhaps  this  was  only  natural,  as  he 
had  been  told  The  Times  was  now  mostly  written  by 
undergraduates.  Personally  I  wondered  at  his  deign- 
ing to  take  any  notice  of  the  criticism  ;  it  seemed  to 
me  to  savour  of  the  schoolboy  tu  quoque,  but  no 
doubt  he  felt  better  after  it.  Nevertheless  he  was  a 
very  saintly  person,  who  found  a  large  field  for  work, 
as  his  saintliness  did  not  prevent  him  seeing  things 
at  a  more  useful  level  than  over  the  tops  of  people's 
heads.  We  may  greatly  admire  the  goodness  of  holy 
men  who  are  so  happy  in  the  saintly  clouds  themselves, 
they  are  unable  to  descend  to  the  level  of  working 
humanity,  but  we  do  not  find  them  very  helpful,  ex- 
cept as  ideals  to  strive  after. 

As  the  diplomatists  would  say,  the  relations  between 
Cardinal  Manning  and  Cardinal  Newman  were  a  little 
strained  latterly,  in  consequence  of  Newman  wanting 
to  build  a  college  for  Roman  Catholics  at  Oxford  and 
Manning  opposing  it.  The  one  thing  in  Cardinal 
Manning's  life  I  did  not  quite  like  was  his  attitude 
towards  Cardinal  Newman,  and  I  thought  he  opposed 
the  college  scheme  on  which  Cardinal  Newman  had 
set  his  heart  with  unnecessary  force,  that  is,  if  the  use- 
fulness of  the  scheme  was  the  only  consideration.  I 
shall  always  think  there  was  a  little  jealousy  between 
these  two  good  men.  Humanity,  poor  Humanity ;  even 
between  these  two  good  men  there  was  some  littleness, 
and  I  think  they  both  fell  a  little  out  of  favour  with 
the  Pope  in  consequence. 

It  was  Cardinal  Newman  who  wrote  that  beautiful 
hymn,  *'  Lead,  Kindly  Light,"  that  has  brought  healing 
on  its  wings  to  many,  for  who  could  hear  it  unmoved  ? 
He  wrote  it  lying  in  the  bottom  of  an  orange  boat  off 
the  Straits  of  Bonifacio  in  1833. 


66     MEMORIES  DISCREET  AND  INDISCREET 

Writing  of  Archbishops  reminds  me  of  a  story  told 
of  Archbishop  Harcourt,  when  staying  with  some 
friends.  Before  his  arrival  the  butler  had  been  priming 
the  footman  and  page  boy  on  the  proper  way  of 
addressing  Church  dignitaries,  not  so  much  because 
he  thought  there  was  any  chance  of  their  having  to 
address  them,  as  with  a  view  of  impressing  those  in 
a  position  beneath  him  with  his  knowledge  of  etiquette. 
It  so  happened  that  when  his  lordship  came  out  of  his 
room  where  he  had  been  writing  letters  he  met  the 
footman,  to  whom  he  said,  *'  Is  there  anybody  who 
can  post  these  letters  for  me  ?  "  Remembering  his 
lessons  in  etiquette  the  footman  replied,  ''  Yes,  the 
lord,  my  boy.''  Whether  this  really  happened  to 
Archbishop  Harcourt  or  not,  I  cannot  say  for  certain, 
but  so  the  story  goes,  and  has  been  saddled  on  the 
backs  of  many  since  then. 

When  a  sentence  is  begun  wrongly  I  have  observed 
it  often  continues  wrong  the  whole  way  through. 
A  friend  of  mine  wished  one  day  to  tell  me  she  would 
like  to  be  able  to  go  to  Marshall  and  Snelgrove's  shop, 
in  Oxford  Street,  to  pick  and  choose  anything  she 
fancied,  regardless  of  cost.  This  is  what  she  suc- 
ceeded in  saying,  *'  I  wish  I  could  have  the  chick  and 
poose  of  everything  in  Narshall  and  Smelgrove's !  " 

Spring  came  at  last  and  with  it  a  very  precious 
little  son,  born  to  me  in  the  midst  of  a  heavy  thunder- 
storm, who  after  making  the  happiness  of  my  life  for 
three  years  was  buried  amid  another  heavy  thunder- 
storm, thereby  fulfilling  the  prophecy  of  an  old  gipsy 
woman  I  met  on  the  road,  shortly  before  the  baby  was 
bom.  She  asked  me  to  buy  some  clothes  pegs  that  she 
was  carrying.  I  did  not  want  any,  and  told  her  I  had 
no  money  with  me  ;  she  then  wished  to  tell  my  fortune, 
but  feeling  that  sufficient  unto  the  day  was  the  evil 
thereof,  I  declined;  she  then  cursed  me,  saying  she 
could  read  the  future  and  I  should  have  a  son  born 
to  me  amid  the  vengeance  of  the  skies  and  within 
five  years  he  would  be  buried  amid  the  vengeance  of 
the  skies. 


A  CARDINAL  AND  A  CANAL  67 

It  was  when  this  little  son  was  eight  weeks  old  I 
took  him  with  me  to  join  my  husband  in  India.  When 
I  dressed  again  after  my  retirement  I  found  I  had  out- 
grown all  my  pretty  clothes,  having  added  about 
another  inch  in  height,  so  all  haste  had  to  be  made 
to  let  out  '*  some  tucks/' 

I  sailed  from  Southampton  by  P.  and  O.  for  Bom- 
bay, thinking  it  better  for  the  baby  than  going  over- 
land. I  cannot  remember  the  name  of  the  boat,  but 
fancy  it  was  the  Cathay  ;  at  any  rate  that  name  keeps 
returning  to  my  mind.  I  was  to  have  sailed  in  the 
Hindustan,  but  was  delayed  in  England  until  a  later 
boat,  which  was  just  as  well,  the  Hindustan  being 
wrecked  on  the  voyage  out. 

My  journey  to  Bombay  was  uneventful,  with  the 
exception  of  being  met  at  Gibraltar  by  some  friends 
and  relations  stationed  there  at  the  time,  who  took 
me  ashore  and  showed  me  as  much  of  the  Rock  as 
time  permitted.  At  Malta  a  cousin  in  the  Black 
Watch  came  to  meet  me.  He  afterwards  was  killed 
at  the  battle  of  Tamai  in  Egypt,  both  legs  being  shot 
off.  He  was  elder  brother  of  the  Park  in  the  Devon- 
shire Regiment  who  took  part  in  the  defence  of  Lady- 
smith  and  was  the  hero  of  Wagon  Hill.  I  shall  have 
more  to  say  of  him  later. 

At  Suez  I  was  told  somebody  was  asking  if  I  was 
on  board.  This  somebody  was  informed  of  my  where- 
abouts and  I  saw  advancing  along  the  deck  towards 
me  a  little  man  in  white  duck  or  drill  garments,  a  sun 
helmet  with  a  flap  behind,  to  keep  the  sun  off  his  neck, 
and  wearing  big  blue  goggles.  When  hat  and  goggles 
were  removed  I  beheld  a  grey-headed  little  man  with 
very  bright  eyes,  a  big  grey  moustache  and  charming 
manner,  bowing  to  me  and  saying  mutual  friends  in 
Paris  had  asked  him  to  meet  and  see  if  he  could 
do  anything  for  me,  and  his  name  was  Lesseps.  I  at 
once  realised  I  was  being  addressed  by  the  great 
engineer,  Vicomte  Ferdinand  de  Lesseps  of  Suez 
Canal  fame,  and  cousin  of  the  Empress  Eugenie. 
At  Suez  and  in  Egypt  generally,  he  was  spoken  of  and 


68     MEMORIES  DISCREET  AND  INDISCREET 

addressed  as  Monsieur  Lesseps.  After  the  manner  of 
the  French,  who  always  try  to  please,  and  whom  it 
does  not  do  to  take  too  seriously,  he  made  me  some 
pretty  speeches  about  it  being  one  of  the  happiest 
moments  of  his  life,  he  had  heard  so  much  about  me, 
etc.,  the  froth  that  is  so  pleasant  and  agreeable, 
knowing  exactly  how  much  it  is  all  worth,  and  feeling 
grateful  to  our  friends  and  acquaintances  for  taking 
so  much  trouble  to  try  and  please,  and  there  it  rests. 

Monsieur  Lesseps  asked  me  if  I  would  visit  his 
little  hut  at  Ismailia.  His  steam  launch  was  awaiting 
my  pleasure.  I  explained  that  as  we  were  going  on 
again  shortly  I  feared  there  would  not  be  time,  but 
he  said  he  could  manage  all  that  if  I  would  go  with 
him,  and  off  he  went  to  interview  the  skipper,  return- 
ing to  say  all  was  arranged,  adding  no  ships  were 
allowed  to  travel  at  night  in  the  Canal,  and  that  when 
ours  anchored,  he  would  bring  me  back  again  to  rejoin. 
So  I  gladly  agreed  to  go  with  him,  feeling  rather 
important  in  his  fussy  little  launch  and  yet  very  small 
beside  the  big  liner. 

I  had  a  delightful  time  with  my  most  interesting 
companion.  He  talked  in  the  most  open  and  engaging 
way  of  all  his  hopes  and  fears,  of  his  experiences  in 
his  gigantic  undertaking  of  joining  up  the  Red  Sea  and 
the  Mediterranean  over  which  the  French  people  had 
spent  twenty  millions,  of  the  opposition  he  had  met 
with,  and  his  pride  in  having  been  the  man  to  accom- 
plish what  had  been  considered  a  hopeless  task,  telling 
me  what  I  had  not  known  before,  namely,  that  the 
idea  was  not  the  child  of  his  own  brain.  It  had  been 
under  consideration  as  far  back  as  the  time  of  the 
Pharaohs,  centuries  before  Christ. 

The  little  Frenchman  was  full  of  anecdote  and 
gesticulation,  describing  some  of  his  encounters  with 
those  who  had  opposed  his  scheme,  and  proud  of  his 
versatility,  saying  he  had  been  sent  on  a  diplomatic 
mission  in  1849  ^^  Rome  and  Spain,  and  then  had 
come  to  dig  and  delve  in  the  sandy  desert. 

There  is  a  story  told  of  this  enterprising  man  when 


A  CARDINAL  AND  A  CANAL  69 

first  he  arrived  at  Suez  to  superintend  the  making  of 
the  Canal. 

He  rode  out  into  the  desert.  There  he  saw  a  sohtary 
lonesome-looking  workman  leaning  on  his  spade  lost 
in  contemplation,  so  he  called  out  to  him,  *'  Bon  jour, 
mon  brave,  que  faites-vous  done  ici  ?  "  receiving  the 
reply,  '*  Ma  foi,  monsieur,  mais  je  vais  construire  le 
Canal  de  Suez." 

'*  Bien  !  et  ce  gamin-la  ? ''  pointing  to  a  small  boy 
in  the  distance. 

'*  II  cherche  du  bois,  monsieur,  pour  nous  construire 
une  maison." 

The  **  maison "  being  the  wooden  building  at 
Ismailia  on  Lake  Timsah.  And  in  this  little  abode  I 
drank  tea  and  passed  a  delightful  afternoon.  Every- 
thing in  it  was  of  the  severest  simplicity.  Material 
comforts  found  no  place  in  his  daily  life.  His  mind 
was  always  working  at  concert  pitch,  what  he  ate  and 
where  he  slept  was  of  minor  consequence,  for  even 
when  the  Canal  was  finished,  and  had  been  in  use  for 
some  years,  much  of  his  time  was  taken  up,  looking 
after  the  dredging  and  care  of  the  costly  undertaking. 

Having  been  so  successful  with  the  Suez  Canal, 
Monsieur  Lesseps  felt  certain  he  could  with  time,  per- 
severance and  money,  again  conquer  all  the  difficulties 
attached  to  canal  making  at  Panama,  with  what  suc- 
cess we  all  know. 

I  have  often  thought  perhaps  enough  was  not 
allowed  for  this  man's  sanguine  temperament.  He 
was  so  hopeful  and  full  of  belief  in  himself,  which  in 
life  is  more  than  half  the  battle,  and  carries  you  riding 
over  many  awkward  places  successfully,  for  un- 
doubtedly if  you  think  yourself  a  worm  you  soon 
become  one. 

After  I  had  been  shown  over  the  bungalow  or  hut, 
as  he  called  his  abode  on  Lake  Timsah,  my  host  took 
me  in  his  launch  on  to  the  Bitter  Lakes.  In  the  Canal 
I  have  at  different  times  seen  most  wonderful  mirages, 
and  this  afternoon  on  the  Lakes  I  plainly  saw  ships 
where  no  ships  were,  water  where  no  water  was,  yet 


70     MEMORIES  DISCREET  AND  INDISCREET 

so  natural  I  could  hardly  beli"eve  it  was  only  one  of 
nature's  little  practical  jokes,  a  joke  that  has  been 
bitter  disappointment,  and  often  death  to  many  a 
desert  traveller. 

Happy  days  come  to  an  end  all  too  soon,  and  before 
I  had  heard  half  I  wished  to  hear  it  was  time  to  return 
to  the  ship. 

Monsieur  Lesseps  and  I  had  a  most  impressive 
farewell,  vowing  eternal  friendship  and  many  more 
meetings,  though  as  a  matter  of  fact  I  did  not  see 
him  again  until  1882,  when  he  was  in  England  on 
business  connected  with  some  arrangements  he  was 
making  with  the  P.  and  O.  Steamship  Company  about 
improvements  and  sanitary  arrangements  in  the  Suez 
Canal. 

But  he  assured  me  he  was  going  to  build  a  palace 
for  me  at  Panama  when  the  Canal  was  finished  there, 
and  leave  it  to  me  in  his  will,  and  many  more  little 
pleasantries  of  the  same  kind. 

There  stands  to-day  at  Suez  the  life-sized  figure  of 
the  man  who  linked  up  two  sides  of  the  world,  looking 
over  the  narrow  waterway  he  cut  through  a  hundred 
miles  of  desert,  who  thought  out,  and  brought  to  a 
successful  issue,  what  the  architects  and  workmen  of 
the  Pyramids  had  failed  to  do,  but  I  like  best  to  think 
of  him  steaming  up  and  down  the  Canal  in  his  launch 
and  not  as  the  disillusioned  and  broken-hearted  old 
man  with  all  the  sparkle  gone  from  his  eyes. 


CHAPTER  V 

INDIA  AND   SOME  GENERALS 

I  Arrive  in  Bombay — Experience  a  Shock — A  Trying  Journey — An 
Indian  table  d'hdte — I  Meet  General  Ewart — How  He  Annoyed  Sir 
Colin  Campbell — Sir  Colin  Uses  Swear  Words — General  Ewart 
Loses  His  Arm — English  Lady  in  a  Harem — An  Hotel  Experience — 
General  Ewart  to  the  Rescue. 

AT   Bombay  my  husband  met  me   and  was  in- 

iJL  troduced  to  his  son,  whom  he  had  the  bad 
-A.  A.  taste  to  say  resembled  all  other  babies, 
except  that  it  was  not  red  in  the  face. 

My  first  visit  to  Bombay  is  as  fresh  in  my  memory 
as  if  it  was  yesterday ;  why  I  do  not  know,  unless  it 
was  from  the  series  of  shocks  I  experienced  there. 
First  of  all  the  dress,  or  want  of  it,  amongst  the 
natives  appalled  me,  little  children  running  about 
with  a  piece  of  string  tied  round  their  middles,  the  rest 
being  birthday  kit,  pure  and  simple.  I  asked  my 
spouse  if  he  did  not  think  it  horrid,  though  less 
reprehensible  in  the  children  than  the  grown-ups. 
He  said  he  did  not  notice  it.  Having  been  some  years 
in  India  I  suppose  he  had  become  hardened,  as  indeed 
I  myself  soon  became.  After  ail,  it  is  only  a  matter  of 
habit. 

Shock  number  two  was  when  we  arrived  at  the 
Byculla  Hotel,  owned  by  a  Parsee  who  strutted  about 
with  a  tall  sort  of  sugar-loaf  black  hat  on  his  head, 
white  buttoned-up  jacket,  rather  tight-fitting  white 
trousers,  made  so  long  that  they  formed  concertina 
sort  of  crinkles  all  up  his  legs ;  on  his  feet  he  wore 
patent-leather  shoes  with  white  pearl  buttons  sewn 
on  in  fantastic  patterns. 

This  may  now  be  a  most  luxurious  palace  of  an 

71 


72     MEMORIES  DISCREET  AND  INDISCREET 

hotel,  but  at  that  time  left  much  to  be  desired.  I  had 
been  so  looking  forward  to  a  nice  bath  of  fresh  water, 
the  salt  water  on  board  ship  left  one  feeling  so  sticky. 
When  I  was  told  it  was  ready  I  hurried  off  to  enjoy  it. 

I  forgot  to  mention  I  had  in  addition  to  my  English 
nurse  brought  out  an  ayah  who  had  been  recommended 
to  me  by  a  lady  who,  having  lately  returned  to 
England  with  children,  wished  to  find  someone  to  take 
her  back.  So  the  ayah,  Junie  by  name,  led  me  to  my 
bathroom,  which  consisted  of  a  dark  sort  of  cupboard, 
partitioned  off  a  corner  of  the  bedroom;  the  upper 
part  of  the  door  was  glass  to  allow  some  light  to  pene- 
trate, over  this  hung  a  draggled  curtain  of  dirt  colour. 

Never  shall  I  forget  my  feelings  when  I  first  beheld  my 
bath.  It  had  once  been  a  large  barrel,  now  cut  in  half. 
It  stood  on  a  bare  sort  of  earthwork,  beaten  fiat  and 
hard,  I  believe  it  was  called  chunam  or  some  such 
name,  but  I  was  past  making  any  enquiries  as  to  its 
proper  title,  or  how  it  was  spelt.  My  arrival  in  the 
bathroom  evidently  disturbed  its  many  inhabitants, 
for  there  was  in  front  of  me  a  galloping  crowd  of  the 
most  repellent-looking  beetles  I  ever  beheld.  One 
reddish-brown  thing  about  two  inches  long  had  large 
feelers,  which  it  waved  about  as  if  it  meant  to  contest 
my  right  there.  It  nearly  took  my  breath  away. 
Having  always  had  a  horror  of  shrieking  women,  and 
those  who  make  a  fuss  over  trifles,  I  crushed  my 
desires  to  call  someone  to  slay  the  monster,  and  it 
hurried  away  with  the  rest  when  it  saw  my  deter- 
mined attitude.  Considering  the  number  of  beetles 
they  showed  great  ability  in  hiding  themselves  quickly, 
for  soon,  though  I  could  hear  a  sort  of  crackling  of 
their  feet,  as  they  packed  themselves  away  under  my 
bath  and  elsewhere,  none  were  to  be  seen.  I  then 
boldly  stepped  into  my  bath,  keeping  an  eye  all  round 
for  any  fresh  horrors.  The  tub  was  so  slimy  I  nearly 
had  a  sideslip  while  getting  in;  I  then  found  a 
variety  of  small  black  things,  something  like  our 
EngUsh  tadpoles  in  their  early  stages,  falling  on  me 
from  my  sponge,  and  discovered  the  water  was  full  of 


INDIA  AND  SOME  GENERALS  73 

them.  I  had  always  rather  prided  myself  upon  being 
agile  and  athletic,  but  I  now  surpassed  myself,  and  was 
out  of  the  bathroom  in  a  surprisingly  short  time. 
I  verily  believe  if  the  King  of  the  Cannibal  Islands  had 
been  holding  his  court  in  the  adjoining  room  I  should 
have  done  just  the  same. 

I  resolved  that  no  more  baths  would  I  have,  until  I 
reached  our  destination  at  Sitapur,  the  other  side  of 
Lucknow ;  where  my  husband  declared  the  baths 
were  not  slimy  or  full  of  wild  animals.  I  observed  he 
had  to  allow  in  appearance  they  were  much  after  the 
pattern  of  the  one  in  the  hotel,  like  half  a  barrel  only 
not  narrower  at  the  top  than  the  bottom.  I  enquired 
if  there  were  any  beetles  at  Sitapur,  and  he  spoke  with 
some  reserve  on  the  subject,  but  he  assured  me  I 
should  find  everything  nice  and  ready  for  my  reception. 

The  hot  weather  having  started  in  earnest,  the  journey 
up-country  was  trying,  and  nothing  would  persuade  me 
it  could  possibly  be  correct  to  have  the  windows  of  the 
railway  carriages  shut  and  begged  my  husband  to 
leave  them  open  so  that  I  might  get  a  little  fresh  air  ! 
He  protested,  but  gave  in  to  his  ''  favourite  wife's  !  " 
entreaties,  enduring  the  heat  as  best  he  could,  until  I 
began  to  be  light-headed.  He  then  insisted  on  shutting 
them,  but  of  course  by  that  time  the  carriage  was  like 
a  furnace,  and  no  hope  of  its  being  much  better  until 
night,  when  the  windows  could  be  opened  with  safety. 
Sleep  was  out  of  the  question.  The  poor  baby  was 
nearly  melted,  but  seemed  to  resent  it  less  than  the  rest 
of  us.  The  nurse  cursed  her  fate,  and  wished  she  had 
never  left  home,  my  husband  was  miserable  at  my 
discomfort,  and  I  was  past  caring  what  became  of  me, 
while  to  add  to  my  misery  the  India-rubber  pillow 
that  could  be  blown  up  for  use  and  collapse  at  other 
times,  which  I  had  been  advised  to  bring  out  from 
home,  melted  and  stuck  to  my  neck  and  hair  ! 

The  food  provided  for  the  travelling  public  at  the 
railway  stations  in  those  days  was  beyond  me,  the 
bread  was  grey  and  the  butter  a  delicate  shade  of 
green,  reminding  me  of  badly  made  zinc  ointment. 


74     MEMORIES  DISCREET  AND  INDISCREET 

At  last  we  reached  Lucknow,  which  was  as  far  as 
we  could  go  by  rail.  We  continued  our  journey  after 
that  in  a  dak  ghari,  which  is  rather  like  a  bathing- 
machine  with  doors  at  each  side,  that  slide  backwards 
and  forwards,  as  desired.  Boards  are  put  up,  and  on 
them,  pillows,  rugs,  and  sometimes  mattresses,  on 
which  you  lie  down  and  try  to  sleep  while  miserable 
little  ponies,  changed  every  few  miles,  carry  you 
through  the  night,  or  day  as  the  case  may  be,  to  your 
destination.  The  monotony  is  relieved  at  intervals  by 
the  ponies  refusing  to  go  any  further,  or  when  fresh 
ones  are  put  in,  by  refusing  to  start,  when  the  driver 
tells  them  awful  things  about  their  relations,  and  that 
is  why  they  are  so  perverse.  These  revelations  some- 
times make  me  wish  /  had  not  learnt  Hindustani. 
If  this  fails  to  bring  about  better  behaviour,  he  makes 
strange  noises  to  them,  curious  sort  of  grunts  and 
guttural  sounds  of  scolding,  followed  by  plaintive 
expostulations,  and  then  comes  desperation  and  the 
ponies  are  severely  beaten,  while  being  told  they  are 
ungrateful  children,  to  refuse  to  start  with  raw 
shoulders  and  half-starved  bodies,  and  that  if  they 
knew  their  business  they  would  start  at  once  and 
gallop  the  whole  way. 

We  thought  we  would  rest  the  night  and  a  day  at 
Lucknow  in  an  hotel  before  going  on.  Here  I  met 
with  another  surprise,  though  of  a  milder  form,  for  the 
hotel  keepers,  man  and  wife,  sat  at  the  top  and  bottom 
of  the  table  at  meals  acting  as  host  and  hostess,  while 
we  were  paying  for  hotel  accommodation  and  food. 
This  made  me  feel  uncomfortable,  as  I  did  not  like  to 
ask  for  marmalade,  instead  of  jam,  or  any  other  small 
detail,  feeling  as  if  I  were  looking  a  gift  horse  in  the 
mouth,  while  really  there  was  no  gift  about  it.  Both 
the  people  in  question  were  English,  or  somewhere 
near  it,  and  very  pleasant,  but  the  situation  was  novel 
to  me.  I  remember  at  the  table  d'hote  dinner  the 
night  we  arrived,  a  fine  old  man  with  one  arm  sat  next 
to  me,  so  I  offered  to  cut  up  his  dinner  for  him.  He 
said  it  would  be  very  kind  of  me,  but  that  his  servant 


INDIA  AND  SOME  GENERALS  75 

usually  did  it  for  him,  though  of  course  it  would  be 
much  nicer  if  I  would  do  it.  We  then  entered  into 
conversation.  He  said  I  had  evidently  just  come  from 
home  and  was  not  used  to  Indian  ways.  He  had 
observed  my  surprise  at  the  proprietors  acting  host 
and  hostess,  explaining  it  was  a  very  usual  custom  in 
India,  having  its  advantages  as  well  as  its  dis- 
advantages. He  then  told  me  he  had  that  day 
returned  to  Lucknow  for  the  first  time  since  the 
Mutiny.  He  was  very  interesting,  telling  me  of  many 
things  in  connection  with  that  time  I  had  not  known 
before,  also  that  on  the  following  day  he  was  going  to 
look  for  the  graves  of  his  cousin,  Colonel  John  Ewart, 
his  wife  and  little  daughter,  who  were  murdered  in 
the  Massacre  of  Cawnpore,  and  for  the  graves  of  others 
in  the  Residency  grounds.  I  longed  to  go  too,  he 
would  have  so  much  to  tell  of  every  corner  in  that 
now  beautifully  kept  place  where  the  flag  is  always 
flying,  the  only  one  that  is  not  lowered  at  sunset,  but 
still  floats  day  and  night  in  memory  of  the  heroes  who 
saw  it  shot  down  ten  times,  but  always  replaced  it, 
keeping  it  flying  to  the  end  against  such  fearful  odds, 
but  I  felt  that  he  would  naturally  rather  go  alone. 

When  I  left  the  table  to  go  and  see  my  baby  have 
its  bath  and  asked  him  to  excuse  me,  he  said,  '*  You 
have  got  a  baby  ?  "  1  said  with  some  pride,  *'  Yes.'' 
He  smiled  and  said,  '*  But  you  are  only  a  baby  your- 
self." I  did  not  quite  like  this,  for  I  was  now  feeling 
very  grown-up,  but  my  husband  seemed  tickled. 
Later  I  asked  my  lord  who  the  one-armed  man  was  ? 
and  he  replied,  ''General  Ewart."  This  did  not  convey 
much  to  me  then,  but  before  long  I  heard  all  about 
his  very  eventful  life. 

Some  little  time  after  this  first  meeting,  a  racing 
pony  of  my  husband's  ran  away  with  me,  ending  by 
slipping  up,  and  both  of  us  were  a  good  deal  hurt. 
When  I  was  well  enough  to  lie  in  the  verandah  General 
Ewart,  who  happened  to  be  staying  near,  used  to  come 
and  sit  with  me  and  talk  of  his  interesting  experiences 
in  the  Crimea  and  Mutiny.     I  told  him  he  ought  to 


76     MEMORIES  DISCREET  AND  INDISCREET 

write  a  book  of  his  life,  he  said  perhaps  he  would  some 
day.  His  son,  the  present  Sir  John  Spencer  Ewart, 
now  tells  me  he  eventually  did  this,  and  I  find  many 
of  the  incidents  he  mentioned  to  me  are  referred  to 
in  it. 

One  of  the  things  he  was  most  proud  of  was  having 
served  throughout  the  Crimea  without  being  off  duty 
one  single  day,  and  under  canvas  the  whole  time. 

When  at  Balaclava  Lord  Raglan  sent  Captain 
Ewart  with  a  message  to  the  irascible  Sir  Colin 
Campbell  asking  why  certain  stores  that  had  been 
expected  for  some  time  had  not  arrived,  as  he  wished 
to  form  a  depot  for  them  at  Balaclava.  Not  quite 
liking  the  idea  of  delivering  this  message  to  Sir  Colin, 
Captain  Ewart  persuaded  some  one  else  to  carry  it 
for  him,  and  was  congratulating  himself  on  his  little 
manoeuvre  when  he  heard  that  no  answer  had  been 
returned,  but  instead  Sir  Colin  had  rushed  off  to  head- 
quarters saying  he  had  been  insulted  and  had  received 
impertinent  messages  from  Captain  Ewart,  who  was 
at  once  sent  for  and  asked  to  explain  himself  :  this 
he  did  and  was  much  relieved  to  see  a  smile  spread 
over  Lord  Raglan's  face.  He  heard  no  more  about  it, 
but  thought  Sir  Colin  never  quite  forgave  him.  Later, 
when  serving  under  him  again  in  the  Mutiny  at 
Lucknow,  during  the  storming  of  the  Secunder-Bagh, 
when  the  Highlanders  had  nearly  cleared  it  of  the 
enemy.  Captain  Ewart  found  the  colours  of  the  foe 
guarded  by  two  white-robed  chiefs ;  he  determined  to 
capture  these  and  had  a  hand-to-hand  fight  over  them, 
which  ended  in  his  killing  the  guard  and  carrying  off 
the  colours  in  triumph.  He  was  scrambling  through 
the  hole  in  the  wall  by  which  he  had  entered,  minus 
his  bonnet,  which  had  been  lost  in  the  fighting,  and  very 
dirty  and  dishevelled,  when  he  saw  Sir  Colin  Campbell, 
to  whom  he  wished  to  present  the  colours.  The 
moment  he  caught  sight  of  Captain  Ewart  the  General 
shouted  out,  ''  Get  back  to  your  regiment.  Sir,  at 
once.''  In  vain  Captain  Ewart  tried  to  explain,  but 
could  not  get  a  word  in  edgeways,  so  at  last  quite 


PJtotc^ra/>h  I'v  Maitli  &■  FoX" 


SIR  JOHN    EWAKT 


INDIA  AND  SOME  GENERALS  ^^ 

exasperated  he  called  out,  **  I  have  just  killed  the  last 
two  of  the  enemy  with  my  own  hands  and  here  is  one 
of  their  colours,  Sir/'  Some  of  his  staff  gave  him  a 
cheer,  but  I  am  afraid  the  General  said  **Damn  the 
colours,"  after  which  perhaps  he  felt  better,  at  any 
rate  he  said  ''  Thank  you  ''  rather  ungraciously  and 
handed  the  colours  to  one  of  his  staff  with  instructions 
to  remember  from  whom  he  had  received  them. 

General  Ewart,  as  he  was  when  he  told  me  the  story, 
said  he  felt  very  crestfallen,  as  he  thought  he  had 
done  a  fine  thing.  At  the  time  he  was  wounded  in 
two  places  and  had  his  arm  in  a  sling. 

The  sequel  to  his  story  is  sad,  as  the  colours  when 
being  sent  home  by  Sir  Colin  Campbell  were  lost 
at  sea. 

I  was  under  the  impression  that  General  Ewart  lost 
his  arm  at  Lucknow,  I  thought  he  told  me  so  when 
describing  how  it  happened,  but  his  son  tells  me  it  was 
at  Cawnpore  after  the  relief  of  Lucknow.  He  was 
Colonel  at  the  time,  and  his  regiment,  the  93rd  High- 
landers, had  to  advance  and  clear  the  buildings  in 
front  of  them  of  the  mutineers.  While  standing  trying 
to  see  where  the  enemy  were,  a  cannon  shot  carried 
away  his  left  arm.  At  first  he  did  not  know  what  had 
happened  but  knew  he  was  hit,  and  on  the  left  side ; 
looking  down  he  found  his  arm  hanging  by  a  piece  of 
skin,  and  on  seeing  the  extent  of  the  damage  was 
surprised  the  blow  had  not  knocked  him  down,  being 
especially  annoyed  to  find  his  field-glasses  smashed. 
One  of  the  *'  Thin  Red  Line  "  who  had  been  with  him 
in  the  Redan  ran  up  and  tied  his  handkerchief  round 
the  bleeding  stump,  then  carried  him  off  to  a  bungalow 
which  had  been  converted  into  a  hospital. 

The  regimental  doctor  cut  off  the  hanging  arm  with 
a  pair  of  scissors  and  said  the  stump  must  be  removed, 
but  it  could  not  be  done  then,  as  it  would  kill  him 
following  so  quickly  on  the  loss  of  the  arm  and  the  shock 
he  had  experienced  ;  however,  he  begged  so  hard  to 
have  the  stump  removed  that  the  Doctor  gave  in, 
and  the  operation  was  performed  under  chloroform. 


78     MEMORIES  DISCREET  AND  INDISCREET 

When  Colonel  Ewart  recovered  from  the  effects  of 
the  anaesthetic  he  found  he  was  back  in  the  doolie 
comfortably  bandaged  up.  Unfortunately  his  arm 
did  not  do  well,  partly  from  want  of  attention  as  the 
doctors  were  so  busy,  and  partly  from  climatic  and 
sanitary  conditions,  gangrene  set  in  ;  various  efforts 
were  made  to  bum  it  out  but  were  ineffectual,  mean- 
while the  flies  and  mosquitoes  were  maddening.  He 
felt  something  must  be  done  if  he  was  to  have  a 
chance  of  living,  so  asked  the  doctors  to  operate 
again,  but  was  told  they  were  much  too  busy.  He  was 
now  removed  into  a  room  full  of  men  suffering  from 
dysentery  and  was  enduring  agonies  from  pleurodynia, 
which  he  told  me  is  a  sort  of  cross  between  neuralgia 
and  rheumatism,  added  to  which  he  was  a  mass  of 
bed  sores,  and  quite  unable  to  move  himself  in  the 
smallest  degree,  his  legs  being  quite  useless,  one  arm 
gone  and  the  other  wounded. 

A  friend  of  his  finding  him  in  this  miserable  con- 
dition had  him  moved  into  a  bungalow  where  the  air 
and  surroundings  would  be  better  for  him,  and  after  a 
while  he  was  able  to  go  home.  I  remember  him 
telling  me  after  all  those  horrible  experiences  the 
Government  would  do  nothing  towards  his  return 
journey  ! 

It  used  to  annoy  and  surprise  Colonel  Ewart  to  find 
he  felt  pain  in  the  arm  that  was  gone  ;  the  doctors  told 
him  the  feeling  would  wear  off  but  it  never  did  entirely. 
This  often  happens,  I  know,  for  once  when  I  was 
nursing  a  man  who  had  lost  his  leg  he  kept  calling  out 
about  the  pain  in  his  foot  and  wanting  me  to  move  it 
for  him,  and  others  have  told  me  they  have  felt  pain  in 
limbs  they  have  lost. 

The  accounts  General  Ewart  gave  me  of  what  he 
found  when  first  his  regiment  arrived  before  Cawnpore 
directly  after  the  massacre  are  almost  too  painful  to 
write  about.  The  men  who  had  been  chosen  to  kill 
the  women  and  children  were  butchers  by  trade. 
When  the  General  entered  the  room  where  the  orders 
had  been  carried  out  he  said  he  felt  he  could  cry,  the 


INDIA  AND  SOME  GENERALS  79 

sights  that  jnet  his  eyes  were  so  touching,  children's 
Httle  shoes  here,  locks  of  women's  hair  there,  picture 
books  steeped  in  blood,  red  finger-marks  on  the 
splashed  walls  where  little  children  had  tried  to  save 
themselves  when  their  turn  came,  after  seeing  the 
others  done  to  death. 

A  few  good-looking  girls  and  children  were  spared 
and  taken  to  live  in  the  harems,  and  General  Ewart  told 
me  a  strange  story  of  an  Englishwoman  that  he  knew 
was  in  one  of  the  palaces  living  behind  the  purdah  : 
she  was  one  of  the  children  captured  at  that  time  and 
believed  to  have  been  murdered :  and  that  a  mission- 
ary's wife  had  seen  and  talked  to  her,  but  she  had 
now  no  wish  to  leave  the  place  where  she  had  spent 
the  greater  part  of  her  life,  and  appeared  quite  content 
as  one  of  the  wives  of  a  fat  native.  She  remembered 
being  captured  and  shut  up  with  several  other  women 
and  children  ;  they  were  all  put  into  one  bungalow 
for  some  time  and  quite  expected  to  be  murdered  when 
the  right  moment  came,  but  after  a  while  they  were 
moved  away  in  covered  bullock  carts,  some  in  one 
direction  and  some  in  another.  She  never  again  saw 
any  of  her  companions  in  captivity,  and  had  forgotten 
most  of  her  English,  but  recognised  some  words. 
General  Ewart,  when  he  heard  of  this  Englishwoman 
in  a  harem,  went  to  the  chief  political  officer  of  the 
neighbourhood  and  said  he  should  like  to  be  able  to 
help  her  to  escape ;  the  agent  said  he  would  see  what 
could  be  done,  only  to  tell  the  General  a  little  later 
that  the  lady  had  no  wish  to  be  rescued  and  had  been 
removed  elsewhere  for  her  health. 

General  Ewart  was  one  of  the  first  to  meet  Kavanagh 
when  he  escaped  from  the  Residency  in  hopes  of 
guiding  Sir  Colin  Campbell  and  giving  him  information 
as  to  the  best  way  to  reach  the  besieged. 

Many  times  I  have  wandered  round  the  Residency 
grounds  and  stood  looking  at  the  mouth  of  the  main 
drain  down  which  that  brave  man  crept  in  his  disguise, 
and  pictured  the  friendly  group  around  him,  almost 
speechless  at  his  daring,  some  wringing  his  hands  and 


8o     MEMORIES  DISCREET  AND  INDISCREET 

wishing  him  God-speed,  Sir  James  Outram  himself 
putting  little  finishing  touches  to  his  disguise,  and 
another  friend  presenting  him  with  a  double-barrelled 
pistol,  wherewith  to  put  an  end  to  his  life  if  captured, 
but  I  am  not  writing  of  Kavanagh.  I  almost  wish  I 
were,  for  I  have  spent  many  evenings  in  those  grounds 
alone  with  the  spirits  of  the  dead.  At  first  the 
gardeners,  kept  there  to  preserve  all  in  order,  and  just 
as  it  was  left  (except  that  now  there  are  beautiful 
plants  and  flowers  growing  amongst  the  graves), 
insisted  on  following  me  around,  explaining  to  me, 
this  is  where  the  ayah  died  and  was  buried,  because 
she  would  not  leave  the  English  babies  in  her  charge  ; 
this  is  where  Kavanagh  Sahib  went  down  the  drain, 
and  so  forth.  I  used  to  wonder  if  these  native 
gardeners  ever  felt  ashamed  amidst  it  all.  Once  when 
nobody  was  looking  I  tucked  my  skirts  tightly  around 
me  and  tried  to  creep  a  little  way  down  the  drain  just 
to  see  how  much  room  there  was  and  what  it  felt  like, 
but  I  did  not  go  far,  and  when  I  ventured  down  it  was 
not  used  as  a  drain  but  was  sweet  and  clean,  which  I 
understand  was  not  the  case  when  Kavanagh  shared 
it  with  the  rats. 

General  Ewart  came  to  my  rescue  when  I  had  only 
been  a  short  time  in  India  and  had  not  learnt  much 
of  the  language.  I  was  on  my  way  down  from  the 
hills  with  my  baby  and  English  nurse,  my  husband 
having  been  obliged  to  stay  behind  at  the  depot  with 
the  invalids  for  a  little  longer.  I  managed  fairly  well 
until  it  was  time  to  leave  the  hotel  where  I  had  rested 
during  the  heat  of  the  day.  I  had  been  told  to  start 
away  about  lo  p.m.,  so  as  to  arrive  at  my  next  halting- 
place  at  a  convenient  time  the  following  morning. 
I  was  rejoiced  to  find  General  Ewart  staying  in  the 
hotel  while  on  a  tour  of  inspection  ;  he  retired  to  bed 
early  as  he  had  a  headache  and  wished  to  be  up  and 
away  early  in  the  morning.  Everybody  on  the  place 
seemed  to  retire  unconscionably  early,  for  not  a 
soul  could  be  seen  or  heard  by  the  time  I  had  to 
start.     I  had  packed  my  belongings  into  the  ghari 


INDIA  AND  SOME  GENERALS  8i 

and  then  proceeded  to  pack  myself  in,  when  I  found 
I  was  held  up  by  a  crowd  of  natives  all  demanding  tips 
and  payment  for  something.  I  gave  an  ayah  whom 
I  had  never  set  eyes  on  before  a  tip,  also  the  man 
who  had  waited  on  me  at  dinner,  but  still  there  was 
a  crowd  salaaming  and  addressing  me  eloquently.  I 
endeavoured  to  tell  the  driver  to  go  on,  but  he  was 
evidently  in  league  with  the  beggars  and  pretended 
not  to  understand.  At  last  in  desperation  I  got  out  of 
the  vehicle,  went  back  into  the  hotel,  which  was  now 
all  in  darkness,  succeeded  in  getting  a  light  from  my 
travelling-bag,  and  wrote  a  note  to  General  Ewart, 
asking  him  what  I  was  to  do,  as  the  servants  would 
not  let  me  leave  the  hotel  without  my  tipping  a 
crowd  and  I  only  had  a  limited  supply  of  change 
until  I  arrived  at  my  destination.  I  then  sent 
this  note  to  the  General  hoping  it  might  reach 
him ;  and  waited  in  the  ghari  for  help  of  some 
sort.  In  a  very  few  minutes  General  Ewart  arrived 
in  his  pyjamas  and  a  military  coat,  his  hair  standing 
on  end  like  a  cockatoo's  ;  the  crowd  at  once  began 
to  melt;  he  addressed  them  like  a  father,  an  angry 
father;  I  could  not  understand  what  he  said,  but 
gathered  from  his  expression  and  the  effect  it  had  on 
the  natives  that  it  was  to  the  point.  He  became  so 
carried  away  by  what  he  was  saying  that  the  coat 
slipped  off  his  shoulders,  much  to  his  discomfort ; 
I  thought  he  looked  very  nice  in  his  elegant  pyjamas, 
but  he  was  overcome  with  shyness  and  threw  some  coin 
to  those  of  the  servants  who  were  left  and  told  them 
to  divide  it  amongst  themselves  and  clear  off  the 
premises. 

I  asked  my  deliverer  what  I  owed  him,  but  he 
said  he  would  let  me  know  by  post  as  it  was  time  I 
was  starting  and  we  were  both  losing  our  beauty 
sleeps. 

During  the  latter  part  of  Sir  John's  life  he  was 
A.D.C.  to  the  Queen  and  became  a  familiar  figure 
strolling  down  the  sunny  side  of  Piccadilly  with  his 
empty  sleeve.     Many  missed  him  when  he  died,  and 


82     MEMORIES  DISCREET  AND  INDISCREET 

his  favourite  haunts  knew  him  no  more.  And  so  we 
jog  along;  the  phenomenon  of  yesterday  becomes  the 
commonplace  of  to-day.  Now  we  look  almost  in 
wonder  if  we  pass  khaki-clad  figures  in  Piccadilly 
with  all  the  proper  accompaniment  of  arms  and  legs. 
It  gives  this  mouse  pleasure  to  remember  she  once 
was  able  to  help  the  lion  in  so  small  a  measure  as  to 
cut  up  his  dinner  for  him. 


CHAPTER  VI 

STORIES   FROM   MAJUBA 

Our  Indian  Bungalow — The  Table  Decorations  Go  to  Sleep — A  Munshi 
Teaches  Me  Hindustani — I  Meet  Sir  George  and  Lady  White  in 
their  Younger  Days — I  Take  Sir  George  for  a  Drive — Mr.  Ian 
Hamilton — In  Afghanistan — At  Majuba — Sends  Many  Reports — 
How  They  were  Received — General  Colley  Asleep — What  Hap- 
pened while  He  Slept. 

I  MADE  my  entry  into  Sitapur  early  in  the 
morning,  the  most  beautiful  part  of  an  Indian 
day.  It  was  restful  to  be  in  something  one 
could  call  '*  home  "  again.  Our  bungalow  was  a 
trifle  primitive  when  first  I  viewed  it.  The  furniture 
had  been  hired  from  some  native  dealer  and  was  not 
artistic.  The  dealers  in  hired  furniture  make  a  good 
thing  out  of  the  officers  of  the  different  regiments  as 
they  come  and  go;  one  hiring  about  pays  for  the 
furniture  in  the  house,  and  all  who  require  it  after- 
wards help  to  make  the  dealer  rich,  for  it  is  then 
pure  profit. 

My  drawing-room  was  a  fair  size,  with  the  inevit- 
able round  table  in  the  middle  of  the  room,  on  which 
stood  a  posy  of  flowers  in  a  glass  jam-jar.  The  arrange- 
ment of  these  flowers  aroused  my  curiosity,  they  were 
massed  together  in  such  a  curious  fashion.  I  found 
the  gardener's  idea  of  beauty  was  to  pull  off  every 
naturally  grown  leaf  and  then  string  it  on  to  the  stalk 
and  shove  it  up  until  a  frill  was  formed  round  the 
flower,  stiff  and  forbidding,  not  a  single  leaf  had  been 
allowed  to  escape  and  be  natural.  For  further  decora- 
tion the  chairs  were  arranged  around  the  room  at 
regular  intervals.  On  the  walls  were  several  of  the 
lamps  with  reflectors  generally  met  with  in  kitchen 
passages.     When  the  heavy  luggage  arrived  and  my 

83 


84     MEMORIES  DISCREET  AND  INDISCREET 

own  pretty  things  were  unpacked  I  soon  made  it  more 
homelike.  The  servants  had  done  their  best  according 
to  their  own  hghts,  and  I  tried  to  convey  to  them  my 
appreciation  of  their  valued  services. 

Writing  of  flowers  reminds  me  of  my  first  dinner- 
party in  that  bungalow.  We  had  quite  a  nice  garden 
with  heaps  of  flowers  and  fruit,  the  scent  of  the  orange 
blossom  and  tuberoses  at  night  being  so  strong  they 
used  at  times  to  make  my  head  ache.  Our  grapes  were 
rather  fine  and  grew  in  profusion,  but  the  hornets 
would  not  allow  me  to  go  near  them  although  the 
natives  in  scanty  garments  walked  about  amongst 
them  without  fear,  and,  as  far  as  I  know,  unharmed. 
A  quantity  of  passion  flowers  grew  in  a  blaze  over 
some  trees  and  archways.  I  thought  my  dinner-table 
would  be  pretty  decorated  with  these,  so  before  I  went 
for  my  evening  ride  I  arranged  them  and  they  looked 
charming.  On  my  return  just  in  time  to  dress  for 
dinner  I  peeped  into  the  dining-room  to  see  all  was  in 
readiness,  when  I  discovered  all  my  flowers  had  shut 
their  eyes  and  gone  to  sleep,  giving  my  table  a  very 
forlorn  aspect.  There  was  no  time  to  make  any  fresh 
arrangement,  so  I  treated  it  as  a  joke,  and  my  guests 
were  amused  when  I  explained  the  situation. 

Being  anxious  to  speak  to  the  servants  in  their  own 
lingo  I  sent  for  a  Munshi  to  teach  me.  His  English 
was  about  on  a  par  with  my  Hindustani.  Each  day  he 
arrived  with  a  lesson  prepared  for  me,  English  words 
on  one  side  of  a  sheet  of  note-paper  and  Hindustani  on 
the  other.    The  first  list  began  : 

Male  hen  ! — with  the  native  ''  Murgi." 
Female  hen  ! — with  the  native  ''  Murga." 
I  was  amused  at  his  English,  but  my  lessons  did  not 
last  long,  as  I  found  it  quite  impossible  to  tolerate  my 
instructor's  manners.  On  entering  the  room,  he,  of 
course,  cast  his  shoes.  This  is  the  usual  custom  and 
I  am  told  desirable.  But  in  other  ways  he  was  so 
unconventional  that  after  he  had  continued  for  a  few 
days  I  determined  to  make  my  husband  teach  me  and 
discarded  my  Munshi. 


STORIES  FROM  MAJUBA  85 

While  at  Sitapur  I  made  many  delightful  friends ;  my 
husband's  brother  officers  and  their  wives  were  most 
kind,  and  being  a  small  station  we  were  thrown  a  good 
deal  together.  Sir  George  and  Lady  White,  at  that 
time  Major  and  Mrs.  White,  were  amongst  my  greatest 
friends.  I  had  and  still  have  a  great  affection  for  Lady 
White,  she  was  so  bright  and  had  such  natural  and 
pleasing  manners.  I  like  to  remember  that  all  the 
years  I  have  known  her  never  have  I  heard  her  say  an 
unkind  word  of  anybody.  It  is  a  simple  matter  to  say 
nothing  that  could  hurt  people  for  those  who  sit  still 
and  wait  to  be  amused,  seldom  speaking,  only  thinking 
like  the  sailor's  parrot,  without  attempting  to  make 
themselves  agreeable.  This  was  not  a  habit  of  Mrs. 
White's,  she  was  always  full  of  conversation,  kind  and 
charitable,  a  charming  trait  in  anybody's  character; 
she  was  no  respecter  of  persons,  all  and  sundry  were 
asked  to  her  home  provided  they  were  clever,  bright 
or  amusing.  Major  White  was  rather  a  respecter  of 
persons.  He  certainly  understood  how  to  choose  his 
friends  and  acquaintances,  preferring  those  who  could 
be  helpful  and  in  other  ways  desirable.  One  of  his 
pleasantest  characteristics  was  his  generosity  and 
appreciation  of  those  who  worked  for  him,  ever 
anxious  to  bring  to  light  and  notice  any  he  considered 
deserving  of  praise.  Many  have  told  me  he  was 
pleasant  to  work  with,  courteous  and  lucid  in  his 
orders,  though  at  times  inclined  to  become  over- 
anxious in  consequence  of  his  sympathy  for  all  who 
had  hardships  to  bear  while  under  his  command.  The 
hospitality  of  both  Major  and  Mrs.  White  was  un- 
bounded. They  kept  open  house  at  all  times.  I  have 
always  thought  Lady  White  a  perfect  genius  in  her 
management,  for  everything  was  well  done,  and  they 
have  been  in  positions  where  there  was,  of  necessity, 
considerable  entertaining.  One  word  more  I  should 
like  to  add,  she  has  through  her  husband's  appoint- 
ments had  the  entertaining  of  many  important  people, 
from  Royalty  downwards,  and  though  everywhere 
popular  never  has  she  become  unduly  spoilt,  and  her 


86     MEMORIES  DISCREET  AND  INDISCREET 

influence  over  her  husband  was  good.  I  have  heard 
people  say  Sir  George  b'ecame  spoilt ;  perhaps  he  did,  it 
was  only  natural  after  being  passed  over  the  heads  of 
those  senior  to  himself  and  given  important  appoint- 
ments, followed  later  by  the  6clat  of  his  historic 
defence  of  Ladysmith.  Lord  Roberts  was  a  good  friend 
to  him  as  he  was  to  many  another.  He  thought  highly 
of  the  92nd  Highlanders  and  was  the  making  of  more 
than  one  of  them,  which  they  are  quite  ready  to  admit. 

In  the  Sitapur  days  we  used  to  have  constant  paper- 
chases  ;  the  Whites  generally  came  out  to  enjoy  the 
sport,  in  fact  most  of  the  station  did.  Mrs.  White 
rode  well  and  would  mount  anything,  fear  being  a 
stranger  to  her.  Major  White  had  a  strong  seat  but 
not  very  good  hands,  horses  did  not  always  go  kindly 
with  him,  though  he  had  endless  patience  and  pluck. 

We  were  lucky  at  this  time  in  having  some  nice 
ponies,  and  most  of  them  carried  me  well,  though  one 
was  distinctly  awkward  to  mount.  Days  when  he  was 
amiable  I  was  able  to  manage  it  while  his  eyes  were 
blindfolded  and  one  leg  held  up,  days  when  he  was 
displeased  about  something  I  had  to  mount  out  of 
the  bathroom  window  while  one  of  the  pony's  legs  was 
held  up,  and  a  man  stood  holding  each  side  of  his  head, 
Thinking  possibly  he  had  been  frightened  or  ill- 
treated  at  some  time  and  that  kindness  and  no  fuss 
might  act  as  a  charm,  I  asked  my  husband  to  have 
him  brought  round  without  having  his  eyes  blind- 
folded. He  said  he  had  tried  it  before  but  Ifmight 
try  again  if  I  liked.  It  was  not  a  success;  I  heard 
expostulations  from  his  syce  or  groom  and  various 
scufflings,  presently  the  horse  appeared  on  its  hind 
legs  trying  to  throw  the  man  down  with  its  fore  feet, 
making  ugly  snatches  at  him,  while  the  unhappy  man 
defended  himself  with  a  stick.  When  once  the  beast 
was  mounted  as  a  rule  he  was  as  quiet  as  a  cow,  the  thing 
was  to  get  there.  He  won  for  us  a  good  many  small 
chases;  he  was  not  fast  but  a  splendid  fencer,  never 
made  a  mistake  or  became  excited. 

One  day  when  I  was  driving  my  Httle  tum-tum,  a 


STORIES  FROM  MAJUBA  87 

sort  of  low  dog-cart  (made  mostly  out  of  bamboo,  very 
light  and  not  much  of  it),  away  from  some  local  races 
where  my  husband  had  been  riding,  I  met  Major  White 
on  foot.  I  asked  if  I  might  give  him  a  lift.  He  said  he 
would  rather  walk,  it  was  good  for  him.  After  chatting 
awhile  he  informed  me  I  should  not  be  able  to  get  home 
the  way  I  was  going  as  a  deep  dry  ditch  lay  ahead  of 
me,  and  I  had  better  turn  and  go  by  the  road.  I 
assured  him  I  had  more  than  once  driven  home  by 
1  he  route  I  was  taking.  He  was  very  polite,  but  it  was 
plain  he  had  grave  doubts,  so  I  asked  him  to  get  up 
beside  me  and  see  how  I  did  it.  '*  Flirt,"  the  little 
pony  I  was  driving,  rattled  along  until  we  came  to  the 
ditch  in  question.  It  was  wide  at  the  bottom  with 
sloping  sides,  but  not  impossibly  steep.  I  have  always 
maintained  a  good  deal  can  be  done  in  driving  down 
awkward  places  if  one  wheel  only  goes  down  first,  a 
sideways  crab  fashion.  As  we  neared  the  incline  I 
slowed  down  to  a  walk.  I  observed  Major  White  plant 
his  feet  ready  to  be  shot  clear  when  the  crash  came. 
We  cautiously  proceeded  sideways  down  the  slope,  the 
little  mare  kept  her  feet  very  cleverly.  Nearing  the 
bottom  of  the  ditch  I  let  her  go,  still  keeping  her 
obhquely,  and  up  the  other  side  we  dashed.  All  was 
well  until  we  almost  reached  the  level  again,  then  she 
began  to  scramble  to  keep  her  feet,  the  extra  weight 
in  the  cart  was  too  much  for  her,  so  I  said,  ''  Hop  out 
your  side  and  I  will  hop  out  mine.'*  This  we  accom- 
plished successfully,  the  mare  was  on  top  and  so  were 
we.  I  then  offered  to  drive  Major  White  home.  He 
declined  unless  I  promised  to  stick  to  the  road,  and 
laughingly  said  he  thought  my  husband  a  very  brave 
man  to  drive  with  me  but  I  should  soon  shatter  his 
nerves. 

Major  White  was  a  keen  sportsman,  fond  of  racing, 
paper-chasing,  shooting,  anything  that  came  along. 
He  was  also  a  great  walker,  and  even  in  his  last  years 
used  to  pride  himself  on  being  able  to  keep  up  with  the 
best  of  them  out  shooting.  Only  a  few  years  before  he 
died  he  rode  in  the  same  race  with  his  son  at  Gibraltar 


88     MEMORIES  DISCREET  AND  INDISCREET 

If  I  remember  rightly  on  this  occasion  *'  the  old  man 
was  beaten  by  the  boy/' 

From  both  Major  White  and  his  wife  we  received  the 
greatest  kindness  in  India.  Once  when  my  English 
nurse  indulged  in  something  stronger  than  tea  my 
husband  took  charge  of  her  while  I  fled  with  my  baby 
to  the  Whites'  bungalow  and  left  him  in  their  care 
until  the  nurse  had  been  despatched  to  England  again. 

The  life  of  Sir  George  White,  V.C.,  having  been 
written  so  lately  his  career  will  be  fresh  in  the  minds 
of  his  friends  and  admirers.  I  remember  when  Sir 
George  was  made  Commander-in-Chief  in  India,  Lady 
White  coming  to  tell  me  about  it  and  her  saying,  ''  I 
think  everybody  is  more  excited  about  it  than  we 
are,"  but  they  were,  of  course,  very  pleased,  Sir 
George  especially,  for  it  was  a  great  step  and  a  great 
honour. 

I  saw  him  last  at  the  Royal  Hospital  not  long  before 
he  died,  and  thought  he  was  looking  wonderful,  but 
Lady  White  said  she  could  not  disguise  from  herself 
that  he  was  failing,  and  I  think  he  hurried  the  end  by 
overtaxing  his  strength  with  walking  on  the  Riviera. 
Lady  White  now  resides  mostly  at  Hampton  Court 
with  her  daughters. 

Amongst  other  delightful  people  I  met  at  Sitapur  was 
Mr.  Ian  Hamilton,  another  brother  officer  of  my 
husband's,  in  fact  he  was  my  husband's  subaltern,  for 
my  man  had  moved  up  a  step  and  was  now  Captain. 
Mr.  Hamilton  was  a  good-looking  youth,  but  did  not 
give  the  impression  of  being  strong,  had  a  delicate  fair 
skin,  sunny  brown  hair  that  insisted  on  curling,  blue 
eyes,  and  a  lithe  figure  a  little  above  medium  height. 

Here  was  another  Highlander  who  became  famous. 
He  is  now  our  only  poet-General ;  it  sounds  an- 
omalous, but  truly  his  reports  read  like  poems.  He 
cannot  write  without  betraying  his  charm  of  mind  and 
speech.  As  a  rule  Generals'  reports  are  dull  and 
occasionally  misleading.  Sir  lan's  are  things  apart, 
combining  cultured  language  and  human  feeling  with 
the  military  virtues  of  clearness  and  precision.    I  made 


HAMILTON 


STORIES  FROM  MAJUBA  89 

this  remark  at  a  big  dinner-party  a  short  time  ago,  at 
which  were  a  number  of  wounded  officers  ;  their  faces 
brightened  at  once,  while  in  chorus  they  all  agreed 
with  me. 

I  always  thought  his  charm  of  manner  had  much  to 
do  with  his  early  success;  he  was  another  of  Lord 
Roberts'  favourites,  indeed  he  was  rather  a  favourite 
with  everybody.  My  husband  and  I  both  liked  him 
much  and  we  saw  a  good  deal  of  him.  He  proved 
himself  a  keen  soldier  and  quickly  climbed  the  ladder 
of  fame,  like  his  brother  officers  Major  White  and  Mr. 
Douglas,  the  latter  being  adjutant  at  Sitapur  during 
the  time  of  which  I  am  speaking  and  to  whom  I  shall 
refer  again  later. 

Mr.  Hamilton's  father  had  at  one  time  commanded 
the  Gordon  Highlanders,  and  it  was  his  son's  ambition 
to  be  in  the  same  regiment. 

In  1878  came  the  Afghan  war,  during  which  the 
regiment  played  a  conspicuous  part.  Mr.  Hamilton 
was  appointed  aide-de-camp  with  Colonel  Brabazon 
of  the  loth  Hussars  to  the  Commander  of  the  British 
Cavalry  Brigade.  That  unhappy  man,  what  strife 
there  was  about  him  and  his  methods  in  the  Chardah 
Valley  !  Happily,  as  it  so  turned  out,  Mr.  Hamilton 
was  laid  up  with  a  sharp  attack  of  fever  while  the 
debate  was  in  progress  as  to  who  was  to  blame  for 
certain  mistakes,  and  so  was  saved  being  mixed  up 
in  it. 

I  have  a  good  many  letters  relating  to  that  time 
and  could  tell  some  interesting  and  highly  instructive 
stories,  but  it  would  serve  no  good  purpose.  Let  the 
dead  bury  its  dead  and  rest  in  peace. 

It  was  during  the  Afghan  war  my  husband  was 
wounded,  the  history  of  which  I  will  write  later. 
The  regiment  was  actually  on  its  way  home  to  England 
after  the  Afghan  war  when  I  received  a  telegram 
(I  was  in  England)  from  my  husband  telling  me  to  take 
a  house  in  the  Isle  of  Wight  as  the  regiment  was  going 
to  be  stationed  at  Parkhurst.  Quickly  on  top  of  this, 
but  not  before  I  had  taken  a  house,  came  another 


90     MEMORIES  DISCREET  AND  INDISCREET 

telegram  saying,  '*  Ordered  to  South  Africa/'  The 
regiment  were,  I  think,  rather  pleased,  feeling  cock-a- 
hoop  and  full  of  spirit  after  their  Afghan  experiences, 
and  thinking  they  would  soon  polish  off  the  Boers, 
making  the  same  mistake  of  underrating  the  enemy's 
power,  as  is  the  habit  of  the  British.  They  had  made 
the  same  mistake  before,  have  made  the  same  mistake 
since,  and  will  probably  make  it  again. 

What  followed  is  well  known  and  the  history  of 
Majuba  Hill  is  well  known,  but  I  do  not  think  that 
everybody  knows  how  hard  Sir  Ian  Hamilton  (at  that 
time  a  subaltern)  tried  to  save  the  situation  and 
probably  would  have  done  so,  if  his  warnings  and 
reports  had  been  attended  to  instead  of  scorned. 

It  is  an  ungrateful  world  and  we  are  all  apt  to  forget 
what  has  been  done  for  us  in  the  past,  especially  at  a 
time  like  the  present  when  colossal  tragedies  tread  on 
the  heels  of  one  another  and  are  the  daily  bill  of  fare 
for  our  troops.  But  the  part  Mr.  Hamilton  played 
on  that  fateful  February  26,  1881,  should  never  be 
forgotten.  I  have  a  number  of  letters  referring  to  it, 
some  lengthy  ones  from  my  husband,  others  from 
friends  who  were  there,  and  a  very  modest  account 
from  Mr.  Hamilton  himself,  written  much  later.  There 
may  be  some  people  who  have  forgotten  the  story,  and 
others  who  never  knew  it,  so  perhaps  I  may  be  forgiven 
if  I  tell  it  briefly  again. 

General  CoUey,  who,  by  the  way,  was  an  habitual 
optimist,  picked  out  six  hundred  men  to  be  with  him 
when  he  carried  out  the  great  deeds  he  contemplated. 
Mr,  Hamilton  was  one  of  the  picked  men.  This  little 
band  spent  a  greater  part  of  the  day  struggling  up  the 
hill  laden  with  ammunition  and  other  requisites. 
Mr.  Melton  Prior  told  me  it  took  them  about  ten 
minutes  coming  down  again  !  But  that  is  not  part  of 
the  story.  Having  reached  the  top  of  the  flat-topped 
hill  called  Majuba  the  troops  dug  a  well  to  supply  them 
with  water  and  proceeded  to  rest. 

Mr.  Hamilton  with  a  few  of  his  Highlanders  was 
posted  on  the  side  of  the  hill  to  report  any  movement  of 


STORIES  FROM  MAJUBA  91 

the  Boers  far  away  below  the  hill.  The  night  was  cold 
and  dark ;  all  passed  quietly  until  early  da\vn,  when 
Mr.  Hamilton  observed  some  activity  amongst  the 
Boer  camps,  presently  he  saw  a  number  of  mounted 
men  riding  towards  the  hill,  this  he  at  once  reported. 
He  suddenly  lost  sight  of  the  riders  below  him  and 
moved  his  own  position  so  as  to  get  a  better  view  if 
they  tried  to  ascend  the  hill,  and  again  reported  what 
he  had  seen,  this  time  to  the  officer  in  charge,  as  General 
Colley  was  asleep,  tired  after  the  fatigue  of  climbing 
the  hill  the  day  before.  The  position  now  looked  so 
serious  that  he  resolved  once  more  to  attract  the 
attention  of  his  superior  officers,  wording  his  report, 
''  Enemy  advancing  to  attack.''  Still  no  orders 
received.  He  was  in  despair,  for  the  enemy  were 
plainly  visible  to  the  naked  eye  spreading  out  over  the 
hill  and  coming  nearer  every  minute.  Could  every- 
body be  asleep  ?  He  and  his  men  made  a  hasty 
shelter  with  stones,  but  before  it  was  strong  enough 
to  be  any  use  the  enemy  were  upon  them.  It  was  now 
too  late  to  wait  for  orders  and  he  told  his  men  to  fire. 
The  poor  Gordons,  a  mere  handful,  did  their  best  but 
were  hopelessly  outnumbered,  and  the  pitiful  little 
ping  pong  of  their  rifles  was  returned  with  compound 
interest. 

Seeing  the  hopelessness  of  the  situation  Mr.  Hamilton 
resolved  to  send  one  more  report.  Where  could  all  the 
rest  of  the  six  hundred  be,  surely  not  all  asleep  ?  As 
no  reply  came  to  this  last  message  he  determined  to  go 
and  see  what  was  the  matter  and  why  no  answer  came 
to  him  with  orders  ;  so  dashed  up  the  hill  himself 
under  a  heavy  fire,  the  Boers  being  only  about  forty 
yards  away.  Arriving  in  the  hollow  of  the  hill,  having 
received  two  bullets  through  his  uniform  in  different 
places,  he  found  all  sleeping,  but  said  he  must  see  the 
General  or  Officer  in  Command  at  once. 

The  latter  was  just  awake  and  quite  unaware  of  any 
fighting  or  anxiety,  which  was  strange ;  they  must  all 
surely  have  been  sleeping  the  sleep  of  the  dead  not  to 
have  heard  the  rifles  of  the  little  defending  party  on 


92     MEMORIES  DISCREET  AND  INDISCREET 

the  slope  of  the  hill.  Be  that  as  it  may,  this  lofty 
official  to  whom  Mr.  Hamilton  related  his  experiences 
and  the  danger  of  his  men,  replied  that  the  General 
was  asleep,  must  not  be  disturbed,  and  he  did  not 
require  panicky  subalterns  to  instruct  him  in  his 
duties.  There  was  therefore  nothing  to  be  done  but 
return  to  his  men,  facing  without  any  cover  once  more 
the  rifles  of  the  Boers.  He  had  done  his  best  for  his 
men  and  to  warn  the  rest;  he  remained  with  his 
picket  until  it  became  clear  the  hill  was  being  sur- 
rounded, so  facing  a  hail  of  bullets  and  possible  rebuff 
again  he  started  to  warn  the  rest,  this  time  being 
told  what  a  nuisance  he  was,  alarming  everybody,  he 
had  only  got  the  jumps  and  must  really  try  and 
control  himself,  everything  was  ''  all  right.''  Three 
times  did  he  personally  warn  the  authorities  of  what 
was  coming  and  three  times  he  sent  his  messengers, 
making  six  separate  reports. 

On  his  return  after  his  own  third  attempt  to  awaken 
the  rest  to  the  danger  of  the  situation,  he  found  it  no 
longer  possible  for  his  little  picket  to  withstand  the 
advancing  and  surrounding  Boers.  He  therefore 
ordered  them  back  to  the  top  of  the  hill,  hoping  they 
might  reach  the  protection  of  its  high  ridge  before  all 
were  killed,  but  it  was  too  late,  the  Boers  were  amongst 
them,  and  men's  brains  were  being  blown  to  pieces  at 
close  quarters.  Out  of  the  seventeen  man  with  Mr. 
Hamilton  defending  the  slope  of  that  hill  twelve  were 
shot  dead  before  reaching  the  top ;  the  rest,  Boers  and 
Highlanders  all  mixed  up  together,  made  for  the  top 
of  the  hill  still  fighting,  and  dropped  together  into  the 
middle  of  the  ''  all  right  "  staff  and  troops.  The  latter, 
who  were  still  in  the  cold  grey  dawn  sleeping,  jumped 
up,  some  with  coats  and  boots  on,  some  without,  a 
mixed  medley  of  Highlanders  and  Infantrymen  all 
firing  indiscriminately.  The  Boers  lay  down  and  fired 
furiously,  more  of  them  poured  in  from  another  side  of 
the  hill ;  seeing  this  for  a  moment  our  troops  checked, 
not  knowing  what  was  the  best  thing  to  do,  and 
nobody  issuing  any  orders. 


STORIES  FROM  MAJUBA  93 

Mr.  Hamilton,  still  thinking  there  might  be  a  chance 
of  an  exit  out  of  this  chaos,  rushed  up  to  General 
Colley  (now  awake)  imploring  him  to  let  the  Gordons 
fix  bayonets  and  charge.  Again  he  was  requested  to 
mind  his  own  business ;  there  was  now  no  longer  any 
chance,  the  men  being  bewildered  and  having  no 
orders,  left  their  posts  and  fled  in  all  directions ;  the 
Boers  then  stood  up  on  the  ridge  of  the  hill  and  shot 
all  down  in  front  of  them. 

Mr.  Hamilton's  feelings  can  be  imagined  better  than 
described,  amidst  this  pandemonium  that  he  tried 
so  hard  to  avert,  and  was  not  allowed  to  check.  In 
the  midst  of  it  all  there  came  to  him  that  curious 
feeling,  curious  instinct  that  tells  us  when  people  are 
looking  at  us,  which  compels  our  attention,  and 
turning  his  head  observed  a  Boer  aiming  at  him  a 
few  yards  away.  Somehow  he  found  a  rifle  in  his 
hand,  though  how  he  came  by  it  he  did  not  remember, 
had  probably  picked  it  up  instinctively  in  the  melee. 
Being  an  expert  with  a  rifle  he  now  prepared  to  use  it, 
but  his  foe  got  first  chance,  and  firing  smashed  his  left 
wrist,  and  down  he  went.  Struggling  on  to  his  feet 
again  he  made  a  dash  after  the  troops  now  fast  dis- 
appearing over  the  side  of  the  hill,  but  the  fire  from  the 
Boers  was  maddening;  before  he  reached  the  side  of 
the  hill  he  was  struck  by  a  bullet  in  his  knee,  also  a 
piece  of  splintered  rock  cut  the  back  of  his  head,  while 
another  bullet  cut  a  hole  in  his  tunic.  He  fortunately 
fell  behind  a  rock,  which  sheltered  him  a  little.  Sud- 
denly the  firing  ceased.  Why  ?  Because  the  Boers 
were  in  possession  of  the  hill,  no  longer  opposed.  Where 
was  General  Colley  now  ?  And  the  haughty  superior 
staff  ?  All  asleep  again,  but  this  time  the  sleep  that 
knows  no  waking. 

Mr.  Hamilton,  dazed  and  suffering,  lay  still,  weak 
and  exhausted,  behind  his  little  rock  shelter.  Pre- 
sently two  of  the  Boers,  who  were  walking  round 
gloating  over  their  morning's  work,  found  him.  The 
youngest  man  of  the  two  suggested  shooting  and 
finishing    him    off,    but    the    elder    and    presumably 


94     MEMORIES  DISCREET  AND  INDISCREET 

superior  officer  did  not  agree.  He  asked  Mr.  Hamilton, 
'*  Are  you  an  officer,  you  infernal  Englishman  ?  " 

"  Yes,"  was  the  reply. 

"  Then  give  up  your  sword." 

Here  indeed  was  the  last  straw,  for  it  had  been  his 
father's,  and  though  feeling  deadly  sick  and  ill  he 
tried  to  save  it  by  offering  money  instead.  This  was 
no  use,  and  they  were  in  the  act  of  taking  it  by  force 
when  some  more  Boers  came  in  sight,  giving  the 
command  *'  Voorwarts,"  and  the  burghers  moved  on. 

I  have  received  many  accounts  of  this  miserable 
day,  my  husband's  letter  being  most  graphic.  He 
believed  it  was  Joubert  himself  who  would  not  allow 
the  sword  to  be  taken  from  the  gallant  soldier  who  had 
fought  against  such  heavy  odds.  It  may  have  been 
Joubert  and  it  may  not ;  whoever  it  was  Mr.  Hamilton 
with  the  graciousness  of  manner  peculiar  to  himself 
thanked  the  officer  who  had  allowed  him  to  keep  his 
valued  sword,  then  remarked  to  him,  **  This  is  a  bad  day 
for  us,"  receiving  in  reply,  "  What  can  you  expect 
from  fighting  on  a  Sunday  ?  "  This  was  scarcely  the 
moment  for  repartee  and  argument,  so  Mr.  Hamilton 
did  not  say  what  must,  I  should  think,  have  risen  to 
his  lips,  *'  You  began,"  as  children  say  when  quarrel- 
ling, followed  by  ''  Didn't,  "  ''  Did,"  and  ending  in 
blows. 

Mr.  Hamilton  lay  where  he  was  until  evening,  when 
the  Boer  Commander  went  up  to  him  saying,  ''  You 
will  die,  you  can  go,"  so  the  poor  lad  started  his 
agonising  journey  down  the  mountain.  His  move- 
ments were  naturally  slow,  and  it  was  dark  and 
raining  before  reaching  the  bottom.  Being  afraid  of 
falUng  into  the  Ingogo  River  he  decided  to  lie  down 
where  he  was,  which  happened  to  be  marshy  ground, 
and  there  his  life  was  slowly  ebbing  away  when  a 
rescue-party  found  him  next  morning,  faint  from  loss 
of  blood  and  pain,  besides  being  starving. 

Once  when  speaking  to  him  of  this  time,  it  being 
always  difficult  to  get  him  to  talk  of  his  own  perform- 
ances owing  to  his  almost  exceptional  modesty,   I 


STORIES  FROM  MAJUBA  95 

succeeded  in  drawing  from  him  the  fact  that  he 
remembers  by  way  of  nourishment  on  this  occasion 
having  a  pot  of  jam  given  to  him  in  hopes  of  keeping 
body  and  soul  together,  nothing  else  being  obtainable 
at  the  time.  This  he  tells  me  **  I  devoured  right  off 
the  reel." 

In  a  letter  I  have  from  a  friend  who  was  left  with  the 
camp  at  the  foot  of  the  hill,  he  says,  *'  When  the  Boers 
began  collecting  their  prisoners  they  would  not 
believe  the  wounded  Tommy  who  told  them  it  was 
General  Colley's  body  lying  before  them :  '  All  the 
English  lie,'  they  said/'  So  polite  of  them,  but 
perhaps  they  were  right !  The  letter  continues, 
**  While  the  prisoners  were  looking  on  in  sulky  misery 
they  came  upon  Mr.  Hamilton,  now  a  pathetic  sight 
covered  in  blood.  They  said  to  him,  '  Oh,  you  will  die, 
so  you  can  go.'  He  waited  no  further  permission  and 
crawled  away,  but  did  not  get  far  before  falling  down 
in  the  marsh  close  to  the  Ingogo,  and  lay  there  com- 
pletely exhausted.  His  wrist  was  a  horrible  sight, 
some  of  the  bones  gone,  others  splintered  and  smashed, 
while  lying  on  the  marsh  for  three  days  had  stiffened 
his  injured  knee.  He  was  told  he  must  have  his  hand  off 
and  that  after  it  was  amputated  he  would  soon  pick 
up  again,  but  Hamilton  considered  half  a  hand  and 
wrist  better  than  none  and  refused  to  allow  the  opera- 
tion. I  believe  he  would  make  a  better  recovery  if  he 
did,  but  that  he  must  naturally  decide  for  himself." 

Then  the  letter  continued  with  some  startling 
statements  which  did  not  reflect  glory,  on  the  contrary 
criminal  neglect  of  duty,  on  the  part  of  some  who 
paid  for  it  with  their  lives. 

It  always  seems  to  me  that  optimism  is  a  most 
reprehensible  quality  in  soldiers,  instead  of  hoping  for 
the  best  they  should  at  all  times  prepare  for  the  worst, 
but  optimism  being  temperamental  perhaps  they 
cannot  help  it,  in  which  case  they  should  not  be 
generals  and  given  the  lives  of  those  dear  to  us  to 
juggle  with.  None  of  we  mothers  of  men  resent  it  if 
*'  pur  all ''  is  killed  in  fair  fight,  dying  the  death  of  all 


96     MEMORIES  DISCREET  AND  INDISCREET 

others  they  would  have  chosen,  but  when  they  have  to 
die  Uke  rats  in  a  hole  and  are  given  no  chance  of  even 
defending  themselves,  it  is  hard,  very  hard,  not  to  be 
bitter.  Optimism  is  doubtless  a  pleasant  garb  for  the 
wearer,  but  it  is  dangerous  to  the  individual  and  cruel 
to  those  surrounded  with  its  atmosphere.  Both  these 
gallant  brave  men,  Colley  and  Penn  Symons,  died 
victims  of  their  own  optimism,  and  I  think  it  must 
have  been  apparent  to  all  who  knew  them  that  what 
happened  in  each  case  might  reasonably  have  been 
expected.  Their  very  virtue,  shall  we  say,  was  their 
undoing,  and  alas  not  only  their  own  but  the  lives  of 
many  lads  just  treading  the  threshold  of  life,  eager  to 
taste  all  its  joys  and  pleasures,  done  to  death.  To 
have  seen  either  of  these  brave  men  preparing  for  the 
worst  would  have  surprised  me  as  much  as  it  would  if 
I  met  Bernard  Shaw  in  pink  hunting  in  the  Shires. 

In  the  Mount  Prospect  Graveyard  lies  buried 
General  Colley 's  body  and  his  fame.  The  photograph 
my  husband  sent  me  shows  the  graves  of  many  of  the 
victims  of  Majuba  Hill,  both  officers  and  men.  In  the 
background  is  Majuba  Hill,  in  the  hollow  at  the  top 
General  Colley  and  the  greater  part  of  his  six  hundred 
died. 

But  to  return  to  Mr.  Hamilton,  he  was  very  ill  from 
shock,  fever  and  loss  of  blood,  which  kept  him  for 
months  an  invalid,  and  small  wonder  with  the  night- 
mare of  Majuba  haunting  him.  It  is  easy  to  imagine 
how  in  his  fevered  dreams  he  lived  over  again  those 
perilous  journeys  backwards  and  forwards  in  the  vain 
endeavour  to  attract  attention  to  their  danger. 

Whether  he  was  wise  to  keep  his  damaged  hand  he 
alone  must  judge.  It  is  not  much  use  to  him  but  he 
can  move  it  a  little.  Neither  would  it  have  been  any 
use  supposing  it  had  been  amputated.  When  I 
remember  the  delicate  appearance  of  Mr.  Hamilton  as 
I  first  knew  him  I  marvel  that  he  survived  such  an 
ordeal. 

W^hilst  still  an  invalid  he  turned  over  in  his  mind 
what  he  should  do  with  the  rest  of  his  life,    Should  he 


I 


m.JSL 


I.ADV    IA\    HAMII.rON 


STORIES  FROM  MAJUBA  97 

leave  the  Service  ?  He  decided  to  remain  a  soldier, 
and  I  am  sorry,  for,  though  the  army  benefited  by 
retaining  a  keen  soldier  whose  gold  had  been  tried  by 
fire,  the  literary  world  sustained  a  loss.  He  was  and 
is  a  man  of  Uterary  ability  with  leanings  towards  the 
poets.    And  a  mind  above  the  average. 

Of  course,  after  our  loss  of  prestige  at  Majuba  there 
were  the  usual  recriminations,  those  who  made  the 
mistakes  trying  to  saddle  the  shoulders  of  the  little 
picket  of  Highlanders  with  the  blame,  saying  they 
broke  and  ran  away,  thereby  causing  the  disaster,  but 
everybody  saw  plainly  through  that  little  fallacy,  and 
I  began  to  feel  more  sympathy  than  usual  with  the 
Bibhcal  David  who  said,  **  All  men  are  Uars,''  but  it  is 
difficult  to  be  really  sincere  even  with  oneself. 

Up  to  1914  I  think  the  present  Sir  Ian  has  had  a 
good  deal  of  luck,  assisted  by  the  helping  hand  of 
Lord  Roberts,  and  he  is,  I  should  think,  as  great  a 
student  of  modem  military  history  as  any  general 
officer  in  the  country — an  accomplishment  not  too 
common  in  our  army  of  pre-1914  days. 

No  public  character  can  escape  without  criticism, 
just  anTi  unjust,  but  they  soon  learn  to  take  no  notice 
of  it.  Possibly  some  of  the  pungent  remarks  relative 
to  Sir  Ian  Hamilton's  conscription  views  may  have 
reached  his  ears,  but  if  those  were  then  his  views  who 
can  blame  him  for  stating  them  ?  I  believe,  by  the 
way,  that  he  has  the  distinction  of  owning  more  medals, 
as  apart  from  decorations,  than  any  other  man  in  the 
Service.  He  married  in  1887  the  eldest  daughter  of 
Sir  John  Muir. 


CHAPTER  VII 

TWO   GREAT  SOLDIERS 

Baby  Under  a  Sofa — A  Coolness  Between  Myself  and  Husband — Our 
Monkey's  Favourite  Drink — Snakes  in  Our  Bedroom — General  Sir 
Charles  Douglas  in  His  Youth — He  Takes  Mrs.  Somebody's  Anti- 
fat — As  Chief  of  General  Staff — Cannot  get  on  with  Lord  Kitchener 
— The  Southern  Command  Manoeuvring — We  Journey  to  the 
Hills — I  get  Left  in  the  Lurch — A  Great  Landslip — An  Indian 
Judge  Eats  Asparagus — Sir  Monier- Williams'  Favourite  Buns. 

MY  husband  was  interested  in  his  son,  but  from 
a  distance,  being  horribly  afraid  of  him.  I 
wished  to  acchmatise  my  lord,  so  one  day 
asked  him  to  hold  the  baby,  while  I  went  into  my 
bedroom  to  look  for  something.  He  said  he  feared  he 
should  drop  it,  but  I  was  firm,  telling  him  all  he  had 
to  do  was  to  hold  on  to  its  petticoats  with  one  hand 
and  support  its  precious  head  with  the  other.  I  then 
left  him  looking  careworn.  Returning  in  a  few  minutes 
I  could  see  neither  husband  nor  baby,  the  room  was 
empty.  I  was  moving  in  the  direction  of  the  nursery 
when  my  attention  was  attracted  towards  a  white 
bundle,  under  the  sofa,  with  a  chair  up  against  it 
forming  a  sort  of  cage.  I  picked  up  my  dear  bundle, 
for  it  was  my  baby,  still  sleeping  composedly,  and  sat 
down  with  him  on  my  lap. 

Presently  I  heard  stealthy  footsteps  coming  along  the 
verandah,  a  face  peeped  round  the  chick,  a  sort  of 
blind  made  of  reeds  to  keep  out  the  flies  and  crows,  also 
to  prevent  people  seeing  into  the  room,  though  the 
natives  managed  to  see  through  them  fairly  well.  I 
would  not  look  up,  and  maintained  a  dignified  silence, 
so  my  husband  had  to  begin,  and  in  rather  a  nervous 
voice  asked,  '*  Is  he  all  right  ?  "  I  pretended  not  to 
hear,  then  he  advanced  and  took  my  hand,  saying 

98 


TWO  GREAT  SOLDIERS  99 

he  wished  to  explain.  I  remarked  I  did  not  see  that 
there  was  anything  to  explain,  but  the  tragic  account 
he  gave  of  his  anxiety  and  fear  overcame  my  wrath 
and  dignity,  I  was  obliged  to  laugh.  *'  But  why," 
I  asked,  **put  him  under  the  sofa  ?  why  not  on  top  ?  " 
"  Because,''  replied  my  husband,  '*  I  feared  he  might 
roll  off.''  There  appeared  to  be  some  method  in  his 
madness  after  all,  so  I  forgave  him  ''  just  this  once." 

I  shared  my  husband's  love  for  animals,  especially 
horses  and  dogs,  but  his  menagerie  in  India  I  found 
trying  at  times.  He  had  some  strange  pets.  His 
monkey,  Peter,  was  intensely  funny,  but  was  jealous 
of  the  baby,  which  kept  me  in  a  state  of  anxiety, 
besides,  he  had  some  most  reprehensible  habits,  one  of 
which  was,  his  fondness  for  strong  drink.  He  used  to 
sit  on  the  arm  of  my  husband's  chair  at  meals  and  have 
titbits  given  to  him,  a  grape,  or  a  nut,  or  sometimes 
biscuits.  When  he  had  eaten  all  he  wanted,  he  used 
to  get  down  and  hide  his  dainties  under  a  rug,  behind 
a  picture,  or  anywhere  that  he  considered  safe.  He 
loved  brandy  and  water,  or  whisky  and  soda.  If  he 
heard  a  soda-water  cork  fly,  he  was  on  the  scene  sur- 
prisingly quickly. 

I  tried  to  break  him  of  his  bad  habits,  and  presented 
him  with  some  weak  toast  and  water  in  his  own 
special  glass.  We  watched  without  appearing  to  take 
any  notice.  He  wrinkled  up  his  brow,  looking  old  and 
worried  after  the  first  sip,  then  tried  another,  gave  a 
shrill  scream,  chattered  fast  and  furiously,  then 
emptied  the  contents  on  to  the  floor  and  proceeded 
to  help  himself  from  my  husband's  tumbler.  He  was 
a  very  human  little  body.  If  he  thought  we  were  not 
paying  him  sufficient  attention,  he  would  make  weird 
and  miserable  faces,  then  sigh  heavily,  and  cover  his 
face  with  his  hands.  He  understood  Hindustani,  but 
not  English.  When  he  had  partaken  of  more  food  or 
drink  than  was  good  for  him  he  was  very  pathetic. 
He  generally  tried  to  find  my  husband  and  chmb 
on  to  the  sofa,  cover  himself  up  with  anything  he  could 
lay  his  hands  on,  an  antimacassar,  the  baby's  shawl, 


100     MEMORIES  DISCREET  AND  INDISCREET 

even  pull  the  tablecloth  off  one  of  the  small  tables, 
then  groan  and  jabber  to  himself  of  his  remorse.  At 
last  he  became  so  mischievous  that  he  had  to  be  given 
away,  but  not  before  he  had  emptied  some  bags  of 
shot  into  my  husband's  bed,  had  torn  a  hat  of  mine  to 
pieces,  as  well  as  having  hidden  most  of  the  baby's 
clothes. 

It  was  at  Sitapur  that  I  first  saw  a  krait  enjoying 
freedom,  a  small  innocent-looking  little  snake,  but 
very  poisonous.  It  was  found  drinking  the  baby's 
milk.  My  husband's  soldier-servant  killed  it,  but  the 
natives  discovered  several  baby  snakes  in  a  wall,  near 
where  the  krait  was  found,  which  they  believed  were 
part  of  the  same  family.  I  thought  they  had  better 
be  dispatched  in  the  same  way  as  their  parent,  as  they 
seemed  to  have  a  very  good  idea  of  taking  care  of 
themselves,  and  struck  at  a  stick  held  in  front  of  them 
in  a  venomous  fashion.  My  husband  protested  and 
said  they  were  dear  harmless  little  things  and  he  wished 
to  keep  them  in  a  glass  bottle  in  his  dressing-room, 
and  watch  them  grow.  I  had  misgivings  about  the 
harmless  nature  of  these  little  darlings,  and  asked 
tenderly  after  their  health  daily,  wondering  if  they  were 
still  in  the  bottle,  but  not  daring  to  go  and  look. 

One  day  when  the  92nd  were  having  a  tennis  and 
dance  afternoon,  I  arrived  rather  late,  and  seeing  my 
husband  and  his  friends  making  merry  over  some 
joke,  I  walked  up  to  them,  asking  if  I  might  hear  all 
about  it ;  a  sudden  hush  made  itself  felt,  and  my 
husband  melted  away.  What  could  it  all  be  about  ? 
Mr.  Douglas,  adjutant  of  the  regiment,  bravely  stood 
his  ground.  I  asked  him  to  explain  the  joke  to  me. 
He  suggested  my  husband  had  better  tell  me,  but  at 
last  I  learned  that  my  lord  and  master  had  been  seek- 
ing advice  as  to  the  best  method  to  adopt  in  breaking 
the  news  to  me  of  the  escape  of  the  little  snakes 
out  of  the  bottle  in  his  dressing-room.  He  feared 
they  might  have  strayed  into  my  bedroom  !  This 
was  not  unlikely,  the  only  boundary  mark  between 
the    dressing-room    and    mine    being    a    curtain,    or 


TWO  GREAT  SOLDIERS  loi 

purdah,  as  it  is  called  out  there.  While  looking  some- 
what amused,  Mr.  Douglas  tried  to  comfort  me  with 
assurances  that  the  beasties  were  certain  to  have  gone 
out  of  doors  and  I  need  have  no  fear  of  my  baby's 
safety.  I  must  confess  I  spent  some  time  looking  for 
them,  in  my  shoes,  and  other  likely  places,  but  never 
saw  them  again. 

The  Mr.  Douglas  referred  to  above  was  none  other 
than  the  General  Sir  Charles  Whittingham  Horsley 
Douglas,  G.C.B.,  K.C.B.,  Chief  of  the  General  Staff,  who 
died  on  October  25th,  1914,  the  victim  of  perpetual 
overwork.  His  death  came  as  a  great  blow  to  the 
army,  and  at  a  time  when  he  could  ill  be  spared.  He 
died  a  courageous  soldier's  death  as  assuredly  as  though 
he  were  fighting  at  the  front.  For  months  he  had  been 
struggling  to  remain  in  harness  and  do  his  work  while 
suffering  acutely.  How  bravely  he  battled  with  ill- 
health  may  be  gathered  from  the  fact  that  only  a 
week  elapsed  between  the  time  he  laid  down  his  pen 
for  the  last  time  and  his  death.  Indeed,  suffering  is 
written  in  capital  letters  across  face  and  form  in  the 
picture  painted  of  him  a  few  months  before  he  died. 

The  Gordons  have  furnished  the  Army  with  many 
brilhant  officers,  but  none  that  I  have  known  who 
achieved  success  more  entirely  by  his  own  merit  and 
hard  work  than  Sir  Charles  Douglas.  For  thirty  years 
he  advanced  steadily  from  one  post  to  another,  rang- 
ing from  adjutant  of  his  regiment  to  the  coveted  post 
of  Chief  of  the  Imperial  General  Staff.  This  is  the 
more  remarkable  as  he  lacked  some  of  the  little 
auxiliaries  that  balanced  the  scales  in  the  right  direc- 
tion for  others  I  could  name.  He  was  not  rich,  he  had 
little  influence  behind  him,  and  was  not  a  general 
favourite,  owing  to  his  short  brusque  manner. 

While  Whistler  prided  himself  on  his  skill  in  quarrel- 
ling and  proudly  wrote  his  Gentle  Art  of  Making 
Enemies  to  immortalise  his  powers  in  that  direction. 
Sir  Charles  Douglas,  throughout  his  long  and  useful 
life,  had  to  struggle  against  the  most  extraordinary 
knack  of  rubbing  people  up  the  wrong  way.    This  was 


102     MEMORIES  DISCREET  AND  INDISCREET 

as  cruel  a  trick  of  fate  as  could  well  pursue  a  clever  and 
ambitious  man. 

Of  his  unpopularity  he  was  well  aware,  and  once 
while  he  was  adjutant  of  the  Gordons  in  India  asked 
me  the  reason.  A  difficult  question  for  me  to  answer 
truly  and  yet  pleasantly.  I  told  him  that  while  every- 
body admired  his  devotion  to  duty,  his  pride  in  and 
love  for  his  regiment,  also  his  discipline,  he  might, 
I  thought,  gain  all  he  desired  without  metaphorically 
knocking  people  down  in  the  first  place,  by  his  sharp 
sarcastic  speech  and  supercilious  manner.  He  said 
he  liked  straightforward  people,  hated  beating  about 
the  bush,  adding,  '*  Besides,  the  Ethiopian  cannot 
change  his  skin,''  which,  after  all,  was  the  very  heart 
of  the  matter,  I  suppose. 

The  world  is  full  of  these  men  ;  facing  life  with  a 
defiant  eye  and  bitter  tongue,  that  withers  every 
advance  of  friendship,  until  at  last  they  stand  alone 
watching  the  hurly-burly  with  apparent  scorn,  while 
all  the  time  they  long  to  dance  as  merry  a  fandango 
as  the  brightest. 

Years  afterwards,  when  I  met  him  in  London,  Sir 
Charles  said  in  the  course  of  conversation  :    "  You 

see  I  am  still  as  unpopular  as  ever,  Mrs. ,"    But 

this  time  I  was  glad  to  be  able  to  reply :  '*  What  matter  ? 
you  are  at  the  top  of  the  tree  \  "  He  never  courted 
popularity,  partly  perhaps  from  a  feeling  of  resent- 
ment against  the  unappreciativeness  he  at  times  per- 
ceived, and  never  in  his  life  would  he  be  party  to  any 
sort  of  self-advertisement ;  it  was  beneath  him,  for 
he  had  a  great  dignity.  He  made  the  mistake,  not 
uncommon  with  many  of  us,  of  thinking  that  so  long 
as  we  do  what  we  think  right,  that  is  all  that  is  required 
of  us,  not  taking  into  consideration  the  effect  our 
righteousness  may  have  on  other  people,  for  it  is 
quite  possible  we  may  be  doing  right  with  one  hand 
while  doing  harm  with  the  other. 

He  was  a  professional  soldier  of  the  best  stamp, 
living  up  to  a  very  exacting  standard  of  his  own,  while 
expecting  everyone  else  to  do  the  same  ;   a  strict  dis- 


GENERAL   SIR    CHARLES    DOUGLAS 
Frnin  a  painting 


TWO  GREAT  SOLDIERS  103 

ciplinarian  at  all  times,  and  very  hard  on  inefficiency 
in  any  form.  The  rigid  code  of  morals  and  work  he 
set  himself  combined  with  another  disturbing  element, 
not  generally  known,  certainly  accelerated  his  death. 
I  refer  to  his  relations  with  Lord  Kitchener.  When 
the  International  crash  came  in  August,  1914,  and 
the  Government  called  Lord  Kitchener  to  the  Secre- 
taryship of  State  for  War,  the  long-standing  inability 
of  these  two  men  to  understand  one  another  became 
a  source  of  acute  anxiety  to  Sir  Charles  Douglas,  who 
felt  that  it  might  detract  from  his  usefulness  at  this 
critical  time. 

There  was  a  clash  of  wills  that  were  both  powerful, 
and  perhaps  imperious.  When  powerful  wills  meet 
and  fail  to  get  into  sympathetic  touch,  giving  way 
becomes  very  difficult,  even  over  such  small  jnatters 
as  the  phraseology  contained  in  the  official  notes  that 
are  continually  passing  between  the  head  of  a  depart- 
ment and  his  Chief  of  Staff. 

It  is  a  fact  that  Lord  Kitchener  simply  ignored 
Sir  Charles,  the  Chief  of  his  Staff !  and  as  hard  a 
worker  as  himself.  It  is  opposites  that  combine  to 
produce  the  most  pleasing  colours  ;  the  harsh  and 
brusque  cannot  tolerate  another  of  the  same  calibre. 
He  requires  a  gentle  persuasive  individual  to  bring 
out  the  best  that  is  in  him. 

All  the  work  undertaken  by  Sir  Charles  throughout 
his  life  was  well  carried  out.  As  Adjutant  to  his 
regiment  he  has  seldom  been  equalled,  and  I  think  no 
one  will  deny  that  the  regiment  owed  much  of  its 
character  for  smartness  and  efficiency  to  him.  He  was 
still  acting  as  Adjutant  during  the  Afghan  War,  where 
he  took  part  in  the  famous  Kabul  to  Kandahar  march, 
and  met  with  the  unpleasant  experience  of  having 
his  horse  shot  under  him.  At  one  time  he  was  Adjutant 
to  the  London  Scottish  Volunteers,  a  post  which  has 
always  been  held  by  Gordon  Highlanders.  This  was 
work  after  his  own  heart,  for  he  loved  regimental  detail. 

During  times  of  peace  he  performed  excellent  work 
as  a  staS-officer  in  the  Aldershot  Command  under  the 


104     MEMORIES  DISCREET  AND  INDISCREET 

Duke  of  Connaught,  commanding  a  brigade  and  then 
a  division.  He  was  the  first  Adjutant-General  when 
the  Army  Council  was  created,  and  held  the  Southern 
Command  after  Sir  Ian  Hamilton.  He  became 
Inspector-General  of  the  Home  Forces,  until  he  was 
selected  to  fill  Sir  John  French's  place  after  the  little 
disagreeableness  at  the  Curragh. 

As  Adjutant-General,  he  had  a  difficult  and  vexatious 
task,  meeting  with  more  opposition  in  his  endeavours 
for  the  good  of  the  army  than  will  probably  ever  be 
known,  but  he  resolutely  stuck  to  his  guns  and  carried 
through  more  measures  and  improvements  than  it 
would  be  well  to  enumerate  ;  from  these  the  army  are 
reaping  benefit  to-day.  The  interests  of  the  service 
were  safe  in  his  hands,  not  even  the  most  seductive 
politician  could  move  him  from  what  he  considered 
best. 

I  have  been  told  his  staff-tours  were  generally  con- 
sidered by  those  who  understand  these  things,  as 
models  of  what  staff-tours  should  be,  and  that  his 
judgment  of  operations  and  his  criticisms  upon  them 
were  in  every  way  admirable.  Indeed,  it  was  not 
until  he  was  appointed  to  the  Southern  Command 
that  he  was  properly  appreciated. 

That  Southern  Command  has  smothered  me  in  dust 
and  delayed  me  on  the  road,  not  once  but  many  times, 
both  during  Sir  Ian  Hamilton's  reign  and  Sir  Charles 
Douglas's.  From  my  home  in  Somersetshire  I  fre- 
quently motored  up  to  town,  and  the  road  by  which 
we  travelled  lay  through  the  midst  of  the  S.C.  terri- 
tory. How  they  churned  up  the  roads  with  their 
heavy  lorries,  beer-vans,  and  all  the  rest  of  their 
commissariat  arrangements.  During  their  manoeuvres 
my  heart  ached  for  them  all.  They  were  in  such  deadly 
earnest,  the  road  was  strewn  with  galloping  majors, 
and  staff-officers,  generals,  colonels,  all  riding  furiously, 
hot  and  careworn.  I  was  given  to  understand  by  one 
of  them  I  met,  that  their  reputations  depended  on 
who  got  round  the  comer  first,  or  something  of  that 
sort.     Horses  stood  at  the  side  of  the  road  with  dis- 


TWO  GREAT  SOLDIERS  105 

tended  nostrils  and  quivering  tails,  ridden  to  within 
an  inch  of  their  lives,  indeed  a  good  many  did  die. 
That  road  was  full  of  surprises.  Suddenly  a  man 
would  lop  his  horse  over  a  fence  close  to  you  and  ask 
in  a  husky  whisper  if  we  had  seen  another  man  on  a 
white  horse,  and  we  were  not  sure  if  we  were  betraying 
anybody,  by  saying  **Yes.''  Once  or  twice  we  had 
the  refreshment  of  seeing  some  of  the  men  standing 
by  their  horses,  eating  bananas  off  a  barrow  at  the  side 
of  the  road,  but  even  then  they  wore  a  worried  air. 

Although  I  followed  the  drum  for  so  many  years 
while  my  husband  was  in  the  Gordon  Highlanders,  I 
am  profoundly  ignorant  of  military  matters,  as  it 
was  considered  most  undesirable,  in  those  days,  for 
the  ladies  to  be  military.  He  did  not  even  like  what 
he  called  "  shop  ''  to  be  talked  before  me.  Woe  betide 
the  young  wife  who  referred  to  **  our  regiment ''  in- 
stead of  **  my  husband's  regiment.''  She  was  meta- 
phorically flung  to  the  lions.  What  the  conventions 
may  be  now  that  the  army  has  grown  by  millions 
I  do  not  know.  Nevertheless  I  managed  to  see  the 
amusing  side  now  and  then  all  the  same. 

When  the  regiment  went  to  Afghanistan  I  came 
home.  On  their  return  to  England  I  remember 
Captain  Douglas,  as  he  then  was,  coming  to  call  on  me 
in  town ;  I  thought  he  was  looking  very  ill.  When  I  left 
India  he  was  a  well-covered  young  man,  rather  wofried 
about  the  weight  he  was  putting  on,  but  now  he  was 
thin  and  bedraggled-looking.  I  asked  him  what  was 
the  matter,  and  he  told  me  he  had  been  taking  quanti- 
ties of  a  mysterious  remedy  called  Mrs.  Somebody's  Anti- 
fat  Mixture.  It  had  reduced  his  weight  without  any 
manner  of  doubt,  but  he  accused  it  also  of  reducing  his 
hair.  A  good  many  of  his  curly  locks  had  disappeared 
with  the  weight,  at  which  he  was  much  distressed, 
and  so  was  I,  for  he  looked  years  older,  and  very  ill. 
I  noticed  also  the  cuffs  of  his  shirt  were  frayed  at  the 
edges.  I  asked  him  if  that  was  also  due  to  Mrs.  Some- 
body's Anti-fat  Mixture,  which  was  unkind  of  me,  but 
he  laughed  and  said  ''No."     That  was  the  work  of 


io6     MEMORIES  DISCREET  AND  INDISCREET 

the  Indian  duobie  (washerman).  He  had  only  just 
landed  and  had  come  to  pay  his  respects  to  me  before 
even  going  to  buy  a  fresh  trousseau,  which  is  the 
necessity  of  every  man  and  woman  returning  from 
India,  where  washermen  and  climate  combined  spoil 
most  things.  It  is  a  curious  fact  that  even  if  you 
only  go  out  to  India  for  a  year,  when  you  return  you 
look  prehistoric,  until  rigged  out  in  entirely  new  kit. 
It  did  not  take  Captain  Douglas  long  to  fit  himself 
up.  He  was  at  all  times  smart,  provided  circumstances 
would  allow  it. 

In  1885  he  married  Miss  Ida  de  Courcy  Gordon, 
daughter  of  the  late  George  Tomlin  Gordon,  j.p.,  d.l., 
of  Cuckney,  Notts,  a  particularly  pretty  and  sweet 
woman,  whom  he  adored.  It  was  one  of  the  happy 
marriages  so  seldom  met  with,  for  she  also  adored 
him,  thought  of  and  lived  for  nothing  else.  That 
rare  and  undefinable  something  we  call  charm  was 
especially  hers.  No  one  could  be  with  her  without 
feeling  it,  and  in  consequence  she  had  many  friends. 

It  came  as  a  great  shock  to  me  when,  a  very  short 
time  ago,  I  heard  she  was  dead.  I  had  received  a 
letter  from  her  only  a  few  days  before.  She  underwent 
an  operation  on  November  12th,  a  Sunday  morning, 
and  died  the  same  afternoon.  Happily  her  sister, 
Lady  Alexander  Kennedy,  of  whom  she  was  fond,  was 
with  her  at  the  time.  Thus  she  only  survived  the 
husband  she  so  mourned  two  years.  They  had  no 
children.  Sir  Charles  was  knighted  while  Adjutant- 
General  on  the  new  Army  Council. 

I  have  a  very  warm  corner  in  my  heart  for  the 
Highlanders.  I  love  to  see  them  swing  along  when 
marching,  with  pipes  skirling  and  kilts  swinging.  It 
is  very  wonderful  that  I  do  love  them,  for  when  I  first 
went  out  to  India  our  bungalow  was  close  to  where 
the  bands  and  pipers  practised,  and  I  shall  never  for- 
get the  first  time  I  dined  at  the  Mess  when  they  had 
a  ladies'  dinner,  and  the  pipers  walked  round  the 
room  behind  our  chairs  at  intervals  while  we  ate.  I 
drank  nothing  stronger  than  iced  soda  water,  but  the 


LADY    DOrOLAS 


TWO  GREAT  SOLDIERS  107 

pipes  made  me  feel  much  as  people  must  do  when 
they  have  had  something  stronger.  My  head  began 
to  go  round,  and  when  I  saw  all  the  men  drinking 
quaigh,  or  guaick  (raw  whisky),  I  wondered  what 
they  would  all  feel  hke.  Happily  for  me,  my  head 
recovered  between  the  bursts  of  music.  What  fine 
fellows  those  pipers  were — what  side,  what  swagger  ; 
it  was  magnificent.  I  remember  the  next  day,  in  our 
bungalow,  trying  to  walk  the  way  they  did,  and  my 
husband  asking  me  what  on  earth  I  was  doing.  He 
was  amused  when  I  said  I  was  seeing  if  I  could  swish 
my  skirts  as  the  pipers  did  their  kilts. 

The  funny  man  of  the  regiment  at  that  time  was 
Major  the  Hon.  John  Scott-Napier.  Many  amusing 
stories  were  told  of  him ;  probably  half  of  them  were 
not  true,  but  from  what  I  know  of  him,  I  think  some 
were.  He  is  living  now,  so  I  must  be  careful  what  I 
say  or  he  will  be  cross  with  me.  He  talks  through 
his  nose.  I  believe  it  was  once  broken  in  boxing  or 
some  such  game,  but  that  may  have  been  somebody 
else's  nose ;  anyway  he  talks  through  his.  He  is  a  great 
fine-looking  man  with  the  kindest  of  hearts,  and  my 
husband  tells  me  once  at  a  ball  in  India  he  was  dancing 
with  some  rather  shy  girl,  and  trying  to  make  her  feel 
at  ease.  While  standing  resting  at  the  side  of  the  room, 
by  way  of  making  polite  conversation  to  her  he  said 
(through  his  nose),  ''  Do  you  like  handsome  men  ?  '' 

His  partner,  looking  up  shyly,  said,  '*  Yes.'' 

'*  Then  just  run  round  the  other  side  of  me,  will 
you  ?  You're  standing  on  the  broken  nose  side,"  said 
Major  Napier. 

Again  a  Httle  later  the  shy  maiden  said  she  admired 
the  Highland  uniform  so  much. 

**  Yes,"  replied  her  partner,  ''  kilts  are  nice  and  cool, 
but  one  wants  mosquito  nets  badly." 

Before  the  end  of  my  first  hot  weather  in  India  my 
husband  got  leave  and  we  went  to  Naini  Tal,  the  nearest 
hill  station  to  Sitapur.  The  lake  there  was  a  great 
source  of  joy  to  my  husband  ;  he  loved  going  out  and 
paddhng  about  in  a  canoe.    It  is  a  pretty  little  spot, 


io8     MEMORIES  DISCREET  AND  INDISCREET 

but  I  never  felt  well  or  happy  there  and  longed  to  get 
back  to  the  plains. 

In  those  days  the  railway  only  ran  as  far  as  Rane- 
bagh  (I  think  that  was  the  name,  but  it  is  a  long  time 
ago).  After  that,  I  remember  we  had  a  long  journey 
in  dak  gharis,  until  we  arrived  at  the  foot  of  the 
Himalayas,  then  after  staying  a  night  in  the  rest- 
house  we  continued  our  journey  up  to  Naini  Tal.  My 
husband  rode  up  on  a  hired  pony,  baby  and  I  went  in 
a  jampan,  an  uncomfortable  little  seat  slung  on 
bamboo  poles  resting  on  the  shoulders  of  coolies,  this 
mode  of  procedure  or  riding  being  the  only  way  of 
reaching  our  destination.  The  paths  were  very  narrow 
and  in  some  places  so  steep  that  it  was  necessary  to 
hold  on  to  the  mane  of  the  pony  being  ridden,  to  pre- 
vent slipping  over  its  tail.  The  animals  are  used  to 
the  roads  and  do  not  seem  perturbed  either  when 
sliding  and  scuffling  down  young  precipices,  or  when 
scrambUng  up  them.  We  started  away  early  in  the 
morning  about  eight  o'clock,  arriving  at  the  Victoria 
Hotel  at  four  in  the  afternoon.  Not  having  had  any 
experience  of  travelling  in  India  beyond  the  journey 
up  from  Bombay  in  the  train,  I  was  unaware  of  the 
amount  of  preparation  necessary  if  comfort  was  aimed 
at ;  my  husband  not  having  had  a  wife  and  family 
before,  did  not  realise  they  could  not  live  on  whisky. 
It  never  occurred  to  me  there  would  be  no  more 
food  to  be  had  until  we  finished  our  journey,  so  I  took 
only  some  milk  in  the  baby's  bottle  and  went  gaily 
away.  My  husband  rode  with  me  for  some  time,  and 
growing  weary  of  the  slowness  of  our  mode  of  progress 
said  he  would  ride  on  to  see  that  everything  was  in 
readiness.  I  did  not  quite  like  being  left  all  alone  with 
the  baby  and  only  the  native  carriers,  but  said  nothing, 
realising  how  boring  it  must  be  jogging  along  beside 
us,  so  I  was  left  to  air  my  few  words  of  Hindustani, 
which  the  carriers  did  not  understand. 

All  went  well  for  a  time,  when  it  began  to  pour  with 
rain,  not  refined  Enghsh  sort  of  rain,  but  bucketfuls 
I  had  no  umbrella,  no  cloak,  no  mackintosh,  only  the 


TWO  GREAT  SOLDIERS  109 

baby's  wraps  and  a  silk  carriage  apron  over  my  knees. 
The  native  carriers  promptly  put  down  the  jampan 
and  left  me,  disappearing  under  cover  somewhere  or 
returning  to  their  homes.  They  knew  I  was  helpless 
and  my  man  gone  on  ahead,  the  servants  had  also 
gone  on  much  earlier  in  the  morning.  My  thin  dress 
stuck  to  me  like  a  bathing-gown,  the  water  sloshed 
up  and  dowTi  in  my  shoes,  the  baby  cried  itself  to  sleep, 
and  the  milk  in  its  bottle  went  sour.  There  was  nothing 
to  do  but  sit  still,  shiver  and  bear  it,  until  such  time 
as  some  one  should  come  along.  A  few  natives  passed 
who  took  no  notice  of  me  and  to  whom  I  could  not 
speak.  They  were  carrying  loads  of  provisions  up 
the  hill.  At  last  a  half-and-half  sort  of  man  came  along, 
neither  white  nor  black.  I  spoke  to  him  and  told  him 
what  had  happened.  He  said  if  he  met  my  husband 
he  would  send  him  back,  and  he  would  probably  meet 
him. 

If  it  had  been  fine  I  suppose  more  people  would 
have  passed  who  might  have  helped  me,  but  nobody 
would  be  out  in  rain  of  that  kind  for  fun.  The  baby 
awoke  and  cried  with  cold  and  hunger.  I  had  nothing 
to  give  him,  and  nothing  dry  to  wrap  round  him ;  I  was 
in  despair.  At  last,  after  sitting  some  hours  in  this 
misery  my  husband  came  back  to  look  for  us,  as  we 
did  not  turn  up  in  proper  time.  He  rode  back  to  where 
we  had  started  from  in  the  morning  to  fetch  fresh 
carriers.  This  was  another  lonely  wait,  and  I  feared 
it  might  be  dark  before  we  had  traversed  those  danger- 
ous-looking paths.  At  last  my  good  man  returned 
with  the  fresh  men  but  had  been  unable  to  get  any- 
thing to  wrap  my  baby  in,  but  brought  some  buffalo 
milk  in  a  bottle  smelling  strongly  of  beer.  We  then  con- 
tinued our  way,  arriving  at  last,  worn  out,  shivering 
and  miserable,  I  feeling  sure  the  baby  would  die. 
As  it  happened  he  suffered  less  than  I  did. 

The  whole  time  we  were  at  Naini  Tal,  we  stayed  at 
the  Victoria  Hotel,  which  was  one  of  the  buildings 
swept  away  in  the  big  landslip  on  September  the  i8th, 
1880.     It  stood  high  up  on  the  hill  overlooking  the 


no     MEMORIES  DISCREET  AND  INDISCREET 

lake  where  many  happy  hours  had  been  spent  by  those 
who  love  the  water,  over  the  assembly-rooms  where 
dances  and  concerts  were  held,  where  the  papers  could 
be  read  in  the  library,  over  the  race-course  where  I 
have  seen  our  ponies  win  many  races. 

Rain  had  been  falling  heavily  for  two  days,  pouring 
steadily  in  an  uninterrupted  flow.  The  day  before 
the  catastrophe  showed  that  the  fall  had  aggregated 
twenty-five  inches  in  the  forty  hours  of  its  continuance. 
The  effect  of  this  enormous  weight  of  water  pouring 
down  the  hill-sides  into  the  little  basin  formed  by  the 
surrounding  hills,  with  the  lake  at  their  feet,  was 
causing  anxiety,  as  the  roads  were  cut  up  and  the 
paths  down  the  hill-sides  from  the  bungalows  were 
turned  into  deep  water-courses,  filled  with  discoloured 
water  carrying  everything  before  it.  The  lake  changed 
from  its  placid  blue-green  to  a  foaming  angry  mass, 
which  threatened  to  overrun  the  only  road  that  could 
be  called  by  that  dignified  appellation,  and  which  ran 
almost  level  with  the  lake.  The  race-course  and  polo- 
ground  vied  with  the  lake  for  supremacy.  The  amount 
of  loose  earth  and  stones  lying  about  should  surely  have 
warned  people  of  a  quite  possible  danger  from  land- 
sHps.  It  was  well  known  in  1877-8,  when  I  was 
there,  that  the  hill  on  which  Government  House  stood 
on  the  same  side  of  the  lake  as  the  hotel  was  unsafe. 
I  well  remember,  while  in  the  hotel,  there  was  a  scare 
because  there  had  been  a  small  landslip  behind  the 
hotel  stables  where  our  ponies  stood. 

Early  on  Saturday  morning,  the  i8th,  the  rain  still 
fell,  a  heavy  cloud  hung  around  the  hill-tops,  turning 
day  almost  into  night.  The  wind  sighed  in  the  dripping 
branches  of  the  trees,  the  water  rushed  and  roared 
uncannily,  a  few  people  collected,  shaking  their  heads, 
and  prophesying  some  disaster,  while  others  told  them 
not  to  be  so  gloomy  and  pessimistic.  The  Victoria 
Hotel  still  perched  picturesquely  amongst  the  trees 
on  the  hillside.  The  large  and  chief  emporium  known 
as  '*  Beirs  shop  "  standing  on  the  north  side  of  it, 
where   anything    from    boot-laces,   apples,   lamp   oil. 


TWO  GREAT  SOLDIERS  iii 

calico  to  stationery  or  castor  oil  might  be  purchased, 
was  tenanted  by  all  the  assistants  and  those  brave 
people  who  defied  the  elements  in  search  of  household 
requisites.  About  lo  a.m.  there  had  been  a  small 
landslip  close  to  the  servants'  quarters,  followed 
shortly  by  the  whole  line  of  outhouses  and  part  of  the 
back  of  the  hotel  collapsing.  The  alarm  was  given, 
and  the  inmates  of  the  hotel  hurried  out  of  it  to  other 
quarters.  The  main  building  remained  intact.  Think- 
ing it  would  now  be  all  right,  the  authorities  worked 
hard  to  remove  all  the  debris,  and  to  rescue  if  possible 
the  unfortunate  people  who  had  been  buried.  It  was 
discovered  by  making  a  roll-call  that  about  thirty 
natives  connected  with  the  hotel  and  one  European 
child  were  missing. 

The  Assistant  Commissioner,  in  charge  of  Naini  Tal, 
arrived  with  the  local  police  almost  immediately. 
Finding  the  task  required  more  hands,  assistance  was 
requisitioned  from  the  military  depot;  four  ofiicers 
and  fifteen  men  soon  joined  the  working  party,  making 
in  all  sixty  or  seventy  hands. 

By  degrees  others  turned  up,  offering  to  help. 
Except  that  the  hotel  was  empty,  life  proceeded  in  the 
usual  way.  People  went  to  the  assembly-room  to 
read  the  papers  ;  BelFs  shop  was  filled  with  people 
comparing  notes  as  to  who  had  been  killed  at  the  back 
of  the  hotel.  By  one  o'clock  the  dead  were  being 
carried  away,  while  the  rain  poured  on  unceasingly. 
Suddenly  about  1.30  the  inhabitants  of  this  little 
station  were  alarmed  by  a  sudden  crashing  roar,  as  of 
mighty  guns  and  angry  elements  combined  in  combat, 
followed  by  a  rumbling  noise  as  of  thunder  passing 
away  in  the  distance.  Then  an  awful  silence,  while 
vast  clouds  of  dust  and  dirt  flung  a  mantle  over  the 
lake,  assembly-rooms,  and  northern  end  of  Naini  Tal. 
The  whole  place  rocked  and  shook,  the  waters  of  the 
lake  rose  in  one  huge  wave  and  swept  towards  the 
weir.  What  was  this  awfulness  that  had  happened  ? 
Was  it  God's  Great  Judgment  Day  ?  All  was  again 
silence,  no  voice  was  heard,  no  cry  for  help,  no  cry  of 


112     MEMORIES  DISCREET  AND  INDISCREET 

pain,   only  an  overwhelming  silence,   an  unbearable 
silence. 

Oh  !  where  was  everybody  ?  What  had  happened  ? 
Where  was  the  Victoria  Hotel,  the  assembly-rooms. 
Bell's  shop,  the  band  of  workers  who  were  searching 
for  the  dead  ?  All  were  gone,  and  in  their  place,  vast 
mounds  of  loose  earth,  uprooted  trees,  fallen  masonry, 
broken  beams,  and  a  litter  of  hats,  rugs,  boots,  rifles, 
yards  of  silk  and  cloth,  bayonets,  looking-glasses,  all 
mixed  up  together  in  mad  confusion.  What  was  that 
protruding  from  the  earth  ?  Surely  human  hands  ! 
Anything  more  awful  to  contemplate  it  would  be  diffi- 
cult to  imagine  outside  Dante's  Inferno. 

It  was  so  sudden,  so  overwhelmingly  complete.  For 
the  moment  it  was  recognised  as  hopeless  to  try  and 
find  those  who,  in  the  early  morning,  had  sought  to 
rescue  the  buried,  for  now  all  lay  fathoms  deep. 

Working  parties  were  quickly  formed,  but  .it  was 
considered  by  the  engineers  and  doctors  that  there 
was  not  the  remotest  chance  of  any  of  the  entombed 
being  still  aUve.  Nevertheless  all  worked  hard,  as 
long  as  light  remained. 

On  a  battlefield  all  know  the  risks  they  are  facing, 
and  in  a  measure  go  of  their  own  free  will,  while  here, 
in  the  midst  of  the  fun  and  frolic,  bred  of  the  holiday 
feeling  that  pervades  the  hills  in  India,  where  those 
who  have  been  enduring  the  heat  and  lassitude  of  the 
plains  once  more  breathe  health-giving  air  and  mean 
to  spend  their  little  savings  in  enjoyment,  suddenly, 
without  warning  are  gathered  home. 

In  the  lists  of  the  missing  and  dead  were  well-known 
figures  in  Naini  Tal  society. 

The  old  Government  House  was  swept  away  and 
the  Naini  Tal  we  had  all  known  was  no  more. 

Many  people  think  it  was  one  of  the  prettiest  of  the 
hill  stations,  perhaps  so  ;  but  I  was  very  glad  to  go 
back  to  the  plains  again  as  soon  as  I  possibly  could. 

I  must  now  return  to  Sitapur.  When  the  Afghan 
War  broke  out  I  and  the  baby  went  home.  On  board 
the  P.  and  O.  was  Lady  Cavagnari,  wife  of  Sir  Pierre 


TWO  GREAT  SOLDIERS  113 

Louis  Napoleon  Cavagnari,  who  was  at  that  time  sent 
as  British  resident  to  Kabul,  where  he  was  so  shortly 
to  be  murdered  by  mutinous  Afghans.  His  wife  was 
young  and  bonny,  and  when  I  read  of  her  husband's 
terrible  death,  I  grieved  for  her  lifelong  sorrow. 

There  was  also  a  judge  from  Bombay,  who  sat  next 
to  me  at  the  dinner-table.  His  conversation  was  in- 
teresting. Amongst  other  things  he  told  me  he  had 
spent  most  of  his  life  in  India,  which  is  what  I  should 
have  imagined  from  his  manners. 

In  the  Red  Sea,  when  it  was  very  hot,  we  had  iced 
asparagus  occasionally  for  luncheon  ;  the  old  judge 
put  the  stems  into  his  mouth  bodily,  green  end — white 
end — everything.  What  he  could  not  swallow  he 
threw  under  the  table  close  to  my  feet ! 

Opposite  to  me  sat  Sir  Monier- Williams,  professor 
of  Sanscrit  at  Oxford — and  his  handsome  wife  whose 
manners  were  as  charming  as  her  husband's  were 
rough.  She  was  most  patient  with  his  selfishness,  and 
looked  uncomfortable  when  he  grabbed  more  than  his 
share  of  dainties. 

Sometimes  we  had  delicious  little  buns  for  luncheon 
fresh  from  the  oven.  These  especially  pleased  Sir 
Monier,  and  quite  regardless  of  whether  there  would 
be  enough  to  go  round  he  would  take  a  handful  and 
place  them  on  the  table  round  his  plate,  when  there 
was  not  room  enough  on  it. 

One  day  there  were  not  enough  to  go  round 
and  the  head  steward  came  behind  Sir  Monier's  chair, 
dug  a  fork  into  one  of  his  spare  buns  and  walked 
off  with  it.  Sir  Monier  was  furious,  the  steward  pre- 
tended not  to  hear  and  carried  the  bun  to  the  man 
waiting  for  it,  then  came  back  full  of  apologies,  saying 
he  had  no  idea  the  buns  belonged  to  Sir  Monier  ;  he 
thought  they  were  some  spare  ones  on  the  table  by 
mistake  ! 

Sir  Monier  had  a  mouthful  of  shark-like  teeth  that  did 
the  most  extraordinary  things  on  their  own  account ; 
when  excited  he  champed  them  up  and  down;  after 
one  of  his  buns  was  taken  away  he  champed  furiously. 


CHAPTER  VIII 

THE    AFGHAN    WAR 

Letters  from  Afghanistan — Two  Brilliant  Engagements — On  the  Way 
to  Kabul — March  of  236  miles  in  15  Days — An  Afghan's  Grave — 
Battle  of  Kandahar — My  Husband's  Company  Leads  the  Attack — 
Wounded — Attacked  Again — Saved  by  a  Drummer  Boy — Letters 
from  Sir  Frederick  Roberts — The  Maiwand  Disaster — Colonel 
West  Ridgeway  Sends  a  Telegram — The  Night  Before  Majuba — 
Fighting  with  One  Boot — The  Empress  of  Austria — Hunting  with 
the  Pytchley — Captain  Bay  Middleton,  Her  Pilot — Prince  Kinsky 
in  Her  Suite — Racing  at  Hopping  Hill — Hunting  in  Ireland — The 
Empress's  Sympathy — Death  of  Prince  Rudolph — Assassination  of 
the  Empress  Elisabeth — Curses  that  have  Borne  Effect. 

MY  husband's  letters  during  the  Afghan  War 
were  full  of  interest.  I  have  a  few  of  them 
before  me  as  I  write,  also  many  from  friends 
taking  part  in  that  campaign,  some  of  whom  are 
living  to-day,  but  many  alas  are  dead. 

The  first  letters  I  received  from  my  partner,  after 
the  regiment's  departure  for  the  front,  were  full  of 
the  fuss  and  excitement  attending  the  movement  of 
troops  on  active  service  :  telling  how  ardent  young 
subalterns  anxious  to  begin  campaigning,  insisted  on 
washing  and  eating  out  of  the  same  basin  long  before 
there  was  any  necessity  for  such  drastic  measures  : 
how  some  officers  and  men  put  up  with  the  necessary 
and  inevitable  discomforts  with  a  good  grace,  whilst 
others  did  not.  In  another  letter  later  I  am  told  of 
jealous  squabbles  which  arose  amongst  the  politicals, 
of  some  remarkably  petty  reprisals,  mistakes  made  by 
commanding  officers  and  generals,  of  long  marches 
and  bitter  cold. 

The  Gordon  Highlanders  played  a  conspicuous  part 
in  that  campaign  and  were  amongst  those  with  Lord 
(then  Sir  Frederick)  Roberts  ox\  tii§  rneynqrable  march 

114 


THE  AFGHAN  WAR  115 

from  Kabul  to  Kandahar.  The  story  of  this  campaign 
has  been  so  often  told  by  men  of  knowledge  and  experi- 
ence in  military  strategy  and  tactics  that  it  would  be 
futile  for  me  to  wrestle  with  it,  besides  which  I  am 
not  trying  to  write  history,  but  merely  reminiscences 
of  some  of  the  history-makers  it  has  been  my  pleasure 
to  know.  I  therefore  pass  on  with  the  all-embracing 
remark  that  my  husband  took  part  in  every  action 
that  was  fought  on  the  road  to  and  from  Kabul,  up 
to  the  time  he  was  wounded  on  September  ist  at  the 
battle  of  Kandahar. 

I  gather  from  his  letters  that  the  storming  of  the 
Peiwar  Kotal  and  the  fighting  before  Sherpur  were 
the  most  critical  of  the  engagements  in  which  he 
"  did  his  bit  "  on  the  way  to  Kabul :  of  his  own  doings 
he  says  little,  but  is  full  of  appreciation  and  praise 
for  other  people,  especially  his  brother  officers,  giving 
occasional  graphic  descriptions  of  what  really  took 
place,  which  is  not  altogether  in  accordance  with  the 
published  accounts. 

He  expresses  the  opinion  in  one  letter  that  the 
Peiwar  Kotal  was  one  of  Sir  Frederick  Roberts'  most 
brilliant  engagements.  I  give  the  following  extracts 
from  his  letters  that  I  think  are  interesting. 

They  raise  no  ghosts  of  the  past  that  are  better  forgot- 
ten, but  give  vivid  little  glimpses  of  life  in  that  splendid 
march  from  Kabul  to  Kandahar  which  still  ranks  as 
one  of  the  achievements  of  the  British  Army.  In  one 
letter  dated  August  loth,  1880,  he  says  :  *'  I  wish  I 
could  find  time  to  write  a  diary  of  this  march,  for  it  is 
of  an  unusual  nature,  and  if  successful,  will  probably 
appear  in  history  for  the  benefit  of  the  rising  genera- 
tion. The  wisdom  of  the  venture,  for  venture  it  is, 
has  been  much  discussed.  Whether  it  is  wise  or  unwise, 
or  the  only  thing  to  be  done,  happily  does  not  rest  with 
me,  I  have  to  do  as  I  am  told,  and  here  I  am,  one  of 
the  10,000  men  in  good  health  and  spirits  looking 
forward  to  reaching  Kandahar  in  the  prescribed  time. 

'*  What  is  unusual  about  this  forced  march  is  the  fact 
that  after  to-day  we  shall  be  completely  cut  off  from 


ii6     MEMORIES  DISCREET  AND  INDISCREET 

any  supports  or  help,  we  shall  have  no  base,  but  be 
entirely  self-supporting.  We  are  in  the  happy  un- 
consciousness of  not  knowing,  from  day  to  day,  what 
is  before  us  ;  we  are  making  for  a  town  supposed  to 
be  held  by  our  troops,  but  after  the  unfortunate  affair 
at  Khush-ki-Nakhud  (Maiwand),  which  will  have 
encouraged  the  enemy  around  Kandahar,  it  is  un- 
certain what  we  may  find ;  therein  lies  the  interest. 

"  Not  only  shall  we  after  to-day  be  cut  off  from 
Kabul  but  consequently  India  also.  Probably  letters 
will  be  delayed,  and  Heaven  only  knows  when  I  may 
hear  from  you  again.  .  .  . 

''  After  leaving  Ghuzni,  H tells   me,  will  be 

the  most  critical  time  for  us,  as  we  shall  then  have  to 
find  food  and  forage  wherever  we  may  halt." 

A  Uttle  later  I  read,  *'  Our  marches  are  very 
fatiguing,  not  from  the  distance  we  cover,  that  being 
only  from  sixteen  to  eighteen  miles  a  day,  but  from  the 
long  halts  and  waiting  in  the  sun,  while  the  baggage 
comes  up,  it  being  most  important  we  should  all  keep 
together.  The  sun  is  very  powerful,  more  so  than  1 
expected,  and  although  we  are  mostly  pretty  fit  and 
hard,  when  we  reached  camp  last  night,  both  High- 
landers and  23rd  Pioneers  were  so  exhausted  they 
threw  themselves  down  as  they  were  supperless  and 
slept.  We  had  only  marched  sixteen  miles,  which  was, 
of  course,  nothing  to  most  of  us,  but  we  were  fourteen 
hours  under  arms. 

'*  At  the  present  moment  we  are  camping  close  to 
the  spot  where  we  were  last  October  when  on  our  way 
to  Kabul. 

**  We  have,  I  think,  an  exceptionally  strong  staff  of 
transport  officers.  Colonel  Lowe  is  their  chief.  Natur- 
ally our  transport  arrangements  are  of  the  utmost 
importance.  As  a  chain  is  only  as  strong  as  its 
weakest  link,  so  we  are  only  as  strong  as  our  weakest 
man  or  mule ;  the  strong  have  to  wait  for  the  weak, 
this  is  what  makes  our  march  so  trying. 

'*  Sir  Frederick  Roberts  has  issued  stringent  orders 
as  to  the  care  of  baggage  animals,  pointing  out  the 


THE  AFGHAN  WAR  117 

success  of  the  march  depends  greatly  on  them  ;  he 
does  not  mean  again  to  try  working  the  poor  beast 
without  food  and  care,  leaving  our  line  strewn  with 
the  dead  and  dying.  We  have  no  camels  with  us  now, 
they  are  useless  for  forced  marches.  I  hope  the  C.O.'s 
will  play  up  and  help  the  transport  officers,  by  seeing 
to  the  loading  of  the  animals,  for  as  you  know  it  is  not 
purely  a  matter  of  feeding  that  keeps  ponies  and 
mules  up  to  the  mark,  it  is  proper  adjustments  of  loads, 
avoiding  sore  backs,''  etc. 

Later,  **  In  Camp  Kelat-i-Ghilzai,  August  23rd, 
1880.  To-day  we  have  passed  through  some  country 
where  opposition  was  expected.  We  met  none.  This 
helps  the  rapidity  of  our  march. 

**  Counting  our  starting-point  as  the  Bala  Hissar 
we  have  now  covered  236  miles  in  15  days,  averaging 
some  15  miles  and  a  bit  per  day.  Nothing  wonderful, 
you  may  say,  neither  is  it,  for  a  regiment  alone,  but 
remember  in  addition  to  18,000  souls,  counting  camp 
followers,  we  have  at  least  9000  baggage  animals 
of  sorts  and  kinds,  carrying  heavy  loads  over  rough 
and  often  cruel  ground.  Take  also  into  consideration, 
that  we  have  not  yet  had  one  day's  halt,  to  which  I 
may  add,  last  but  not  least,  the  troops  are  in  splendid 
health  (speaking  generally)  and  the  transport  animals 
with  very  little  amiss,  you  will  then  consider,  as  I  do, 
that  it  has  been  a  wonderful  feat  towards  the  accom- 
plishment of  which  all  have  done  their  best. 

''  We  passed  an  interesting  Afghan  grave  a  march 
or  two  back.  I  shall  try  and  get  a  photograph  of  it 
for  you,  by  and  by.  At  Ghuzni  we  passed  the  tomb  of 
Mahmood,  the  at  one  time  King  of  Ghuzni,  which  used  to 
be  a  powerful  city.  Its  glory  has  now  departed  as  well 
as  its  valiant  king,  who  invaded  India  no  less  than 
eleven  times.  His  tomb  lies  in  a  picturesque  and 
peaceful  spot  and  is  well  preserved.  Wonderful  to 
relate  the  tiger  skin  that  Vigne  declared  was  the 
largest  he  had  ever  seen,  still  hangs  outside  the  gates 
and  walls,  that  surround  the  tomb.  The  walls  and 
general   surroundings   are    in   a   tumble-down   state, 


ii8     MEMORIES  DISCREET  AND  INDISCREET 

which  is  a  pity,  only  the  tomb  itself  is  in  good  preserva- 
tion. Here  and  there  are  illuminated  inscriptions  and 
some  uncommon  carving,  the  Kufie  inscriptions  being 
perhaps  in  the  best  state  of  preservation. 

''The  Gates  of  Somnath,  which  Nott  carried  away  to 
India  some  forty  or  fifty  years  ago,  have  been  replaced 
by  carved  doors  of  sandalwood,  or  something  like  it. 
The  horseshoes  nailed  about  the  walls  are  in  such 
profusion  that  if  they  are  anything  like  as  lucky  as 
you  would  have  me  believe  the  old  gentleman  must 
indeed  be  in  luck's  way  wherever  he  may  be  ! 

**  The  old  days  of  last  December  when  we  were 
fighting  against  such  great  odds  at  Sherpur  were 
vividly  recalled  a  few  nights  ago  by  reading  in  the 
Field  Force  Orders  a  little  notice  to  the  effect  that 
'  Lieut. -General  Sir  Fred.  Roberts  feels  sure  the 
whole  Kabul  Field  Force  will  share  with  him,  his 
sorrow  and  regret  on  learning  the  sad  news  of  the 
death  of  Lieut. -Colonel  Cleland,  9th  Lancers,  the 
result  of  the  dangerous  wounds  he  received  on  the 
nth  of  December  last  while  gallantly  leading  his 
distinguished  regiment  against  the  enemy.  After 
many  months  of  suffering  Colonel  Cleland  has  died  at 
Murree.'  The  *In  Memoriam  '  continued  with  expres- 
sions of  sympathy  with  the  officers  and  men  of  the  9th 
Lancers,  who  by  his  death  have  been  deprived  of  a 
gallant  and  promising  officer.'' 

My  husband  adds  :  *'  Cleland  was  very  popular,  and 
I  think  everyone  will  be  sorry." 

'*  None  of  us  are  looking  very  handsome  just  now, 
our  faces  and  hands  are  burnt  brown,  both  being 
ornamented  by  many  blisters.  Some  of  us  are  begin- 
ing  to  feel  our  short  allowance  of  sleep,  also  the 
extremes  of  temperature.  In  the  early  morning  when 
we  start  our  march  the  thermometer  often  registers 
45°  in  the  open  air,  while  at  four  or  five  o'clock  in  the 
evening  it  stands  at  100°  in  a  double-flap  tent. 

'*  The  last  few  marches  we  have  been  up  at  i  a.m. 
and  marching  by  2.30  so  as  to  get  the  rearguard  in 
before  dark,  and  give  the  troops  time  to  prepare  their 


THE  AFGHAN  WAR  119 

food  before  turning  in  about  7.30.  It  has  been 
my  fate  several  times  to  be  sent  back  a  few  miles  at 
the  end  of  my  day's  march,  to  help  in  bringing  in 
stragglers.  Some  of  our  followers  are  wanting  in  grit 
and  will  if  they  get  a  chance  wander  off  into  some 
quiet  corner  and  go  to  sleep  quite  regardless  of  the 
consequences,  which  may  easily  mean,  being  left 
behind  and  made  into  mincemeat  by  the  Afghans. 
Occasionally  some  do  contrive  to  get  left  behind,  and 
if  by  chance  they  live  to  overtake  us  tell  all  sorts  of 
weird  tales  of  their  experiences. 

*'  While  here  we  are  going  to  add  three  hundred  or  so 
camels  to  our  transport,  as  well  as  a  number  of  donkeys, 
the  latter  are  useful  for  carrying  the  men  who  are 
unable  to  walk. 

"  General  Hugh  Gough's  Cavalry  Brigade  have  done 
fine  work  throughout  our  march,  always  scouting 
ahead,  leaving  us  to  march  in  peace  without  fear  of 
sudden  attack. 

**  I  am  one  of  the  few  who  have  not  suffered  from 
blistered  feet,  thanks  to  your  silk  socks,  which  I  soap 
well  and  wear  inside  my  other  regimental  ones.  I  am 
afraid  some  of  the  last  you  knitted  for  me  have  gone 
astray,  you  might  register  the  next.  Bought  silk  socks 
are  useless.'' 

The  next  letter,  that  may  possibly  hold  some 
interest  for  others  as  well  as  myself,  is  dated  *'  Sept. 
3rd,  1880.    Kandahar." 

"  Our  march  is  now  a  thing  of  the  past,  but  a 
splendid  performance  for  so  large  a  force,  carrying 
with  it  all  the  sick  and  supplies. 

''  We  arrived  here  on  30th  August.  Our  Brigade 
consisted  of  the  92nd  Highlanders,  2nd  Ghoorkas, 
23rd  and  24th  Native  Infantry.  There  was  a  little 
fighting  in  which  we  took  no  part  the  same  afternoon, 
a  few  shells  dropped  about  our  camp  but  did  little 
harm. 

'*  I  was  out  on  picket  last  night  and  had  a  good  view 
of  the  country,  at  daybreak  could  plainly  see  Ayoob's 
troops  busily  taking  up  their  different  positions,  and 


120     MEMORIES  DISCREET  AND  INDISCREET 

swarms  of  white-clad  Ghazis  going  off  to  a  big  village, 
on  a  mound,  which  was  evidently  an  important 
position. 

"  At  7  a.m.  I  was  relieved  from  picket,  went  down 
and  had  a  good  feed.  At  8  a.m.  we  paraded,  and  then 
we,  the  ist  Brigade,  consisting  of  the  troops  already 
mentioned,  went  forth  on  our  way  to  the  back  of  a 
hill,  where  v/e  were  to  wait  for  the  artillery  to  begin, 
being  greeted  en  route  by  a  smart  fire  of  shells  and  a 
few  round  shot. 

"  We  could  easily  get  to  the  top  of  this  hill  and  look 
over.  It  was  a  pretty  sight  to  see  the  40-pounders,  a 
field  battery,  and  the  screw  guns  all  at  work  on  the 
pass,  where  some  of  Ayoob's  guns  were,  and  at  the 
village  in  front. 

''  After  about  twenty  minutes  of  this  we  went  out 
and  were  soon  behind  a  high  wall  which  screened  our 
movements.  Here  Major  White  directed  my  company 
(the  leading  one)  to  extend,  file  out  beyond  the  wall 
and  front  turn,  which  he  said  would  bring  me  facing 
the  position  to  he  carried,  Dick  Cunyngham's  Company 
to  be  on  my  left,  the  Ghoorkas  on  his  left  again.  I  did 
as  I  was  told  and  got  into  the  open,  where  I  soon  found 
it  was  all  a  mistake  and  I  was  under  a  very  hot  fire, 
with  the  company  *  end  on  '  as  it  were.  They  got 
puzzled  and  crowded  under  some  low  walls,  thereby 
drawing  artillery  fire  in  a  dangerous  manner.  Just  then 
White  galloped  up,  and  told  me,  he  had  made  a  mistake 
owing  to  a  map  being  wrong,  or  something,  but  I 
managed  to  change  front,  and  we  went  at  and  into  the 
village  with  a  rush,  the  Ghoorkas  close  to  us.  On  the 
roof-tops  and  among  the  huts,  we  had  some  hottish 
fighting  as  the  Afghans  could  not  get  out.  At  one 
place  there  was  a  little  courtyard  with  a  very  narrow 
passage  leading  up  to  it.  I  led  the  way  into  this, 
calling  on  my  men  to  follow  me.  On  rounding  a 
corner  I  found  myself  face  to  face  with  about  twenty 
Afghans.  I  had  got  a  bit  too  far  ahead  of  my  men, 
had  in  fact  got  well  into  the  open  yard  with  only  one 
drummer  near  me,  before  the  men  came  up.     I  tried 


THE  AFGHAN  WAR  121 

to  dodge  behind  a  wall  for  a  moment,  until  the  men 
got  up,  when  we  could  make  a  rush  together ;  a  bullet 
now  caught  me  on  my  hip,  sending  me  head  over  heels, 
sword  one  way,  helmet  another.  Two  of  my  men 
dragged  me  out  of  the  way  and  the  yard  was  cleared 
at  the  point  of  the  bayonet.  Two  of  my  company, 
Dennis  and  Roddick,  carried  me  to  another  part  of 
the  village  which  the  Ghoorkas  had  occupied.  The 
doolies  were  not  up,  and  the  sun  was  blazing  hot,  so 
they  put  me  into  an  apparently  empty  hut,  in  order 
that  I  might  have  some  shade.  I  thought  I  saw  a 
movement  in  a  dark  comer,  but  feeling  pretty  sick  and 
bad,  thought  it  might  be  imagination.  Dennis  laid  his 
rifle  against  the  wall  to  try  and  put  me  in  a  comfort- 
able position,  Roddick  (a  drummer)  had  his  sword 
sheathed,  when  a  Ghazi  dashed  out  of  the  dark  comer 
with  a  yell,  and  began  slashing  at  me  right  and  left. 
He  hit  me  fortunately  with  the  flat  of  his  sword,  a 
mighty  whack  on  the  head,  also  hit  Dennis  on  the 
head  and  cut  his  arm.  I  tried  to  help  him  and  moved 
on  to  my  side,  when  the  Ghazi  turned  on  me  again, 
gave  me  a  slash  on  the  back  as  I  lay,  this  time  not 
the  flat  of  his  sword,  and  was  just  about  to  finish  me 
off  when  Roddick  and  a  Ghoorka  shot  him,  and  he  fell 
over  me  dead. 

*'  I  believe  I  waited  in  that  hut  some  time,  but  do 
not  remember  much  more  about  it.  I  was,  I  knew,  in 
a  horrid  mess  and  everything  seemed  very  far  away. 
The  next  thing  I  can  remember  was  finding  myself  in 
a  little  cattle  shed  in  the  rear,  where  Dr.  Roe  was 
dressing  wounded  men.  I  am  told  I  was  carried  there 
in  a  doolie.  When  my  turn  came  to  be  examined  Roe 
was  not  long  ripping  up  my  tunic  and  shirt.  My 
bashed  head  and  cut  back  were  not  pleasant,  but 
what  worried  me  most,  was  the  bullet  wound  in  my  hip, 
the  bullet  had  gone  unpleasantly  near  my  spine.  On 
examination  it  was  found  my  life  had  been  saved  by  a 
tin  of  desiccated  soup  in  my  haversack."  What  the 
wound  can  have  been  like  at  the  time  I  cannot 
imagine.    When  I  first  saw  it  more  than  a  year  after 


122     MEMORIES  DISCREET  AND  INDISCREET 

it  was  an  ugly  cicatrix  the  size  of  the  top  of  a 
teacup. 

The  letter  continues,  *'  The  man  who  shot  me  was 
not  more  than  four  or  five  yards  off  at  the  most.  While 
Roe  was  sewing  up  my  cuts  and  making  me  say  things, 
of  which  I  know  you  would  not  approve,  there  was  an 
alarm  from  a  lookout-man  he  had  prudently  placed, 
so  my  excitements  were  not  yet  over  for  the  day.  Roe 
hastily  collected  the  only  five  wounded  men  able  to 
use  a  rifle  and  defended  the  shed  against  twenty-five 
for  certain,  and  probably  more  Ghazis,  who  had  been 
hidden  somewhere,  and  tried  to  rush  the  place.  Fortu- 
nately they  only  had  swords.  So  gallantly  did  Roe 
and  the  wounded  men  fight,  not  one  man  got  into  the 
place,  though  they  came  close  up  to  the  walls.  After 
eleven  had  been  satisfactorily  accounted  for,  the 
rest  fled. 

'*  I  was  in  a  beastly  funk  all  the  time;  the  prospect 
of  being  cut  up  as  I  lay  in  a  doolie  was  not  reassuring, 
and  I  was  absolutely  helpless.  I  got  sent  off  to  the 
field  hospital  a  little  later  but  there  was  no  doctor  for 
several  hours.  It  did  not  matter  so  much  for  me,  I 
was  to  a  certain  extent  patched  up,  but  some  of  those 
around  me,  were  in  great  misery  for  a  long  time. 
Donald  Stewart  was  brought  in  with  a  nasty  hole  in 
his  leg  just  below  the  knee.  Luckily  for  him  the  bone 
and  arteries  have  not  been  damaged,  but  it  was  a  near 
thing,  just  the  eighth  of  an  inch  either  way,  and  it 
would  have  necessitated  an  amputation. 

"  After  I  fell  out,  the  regiment  had  a  desperate  fight 
at  a  Kotal  or  pass  where  the  Afghans  made  their  last 
stand.  They  (our  men)  lost  heavily,  taking  a  lot  of 
guns  at  the  point  of  the  bayonet.  Major  White  was 
splendid  all  through,  and  how  he  escaped  I  cannot  tell. 
Douglas  had  his  horse  shot  under  him.  Ayoob's  camp 
and  guns  fell  into  their  hands,  and  the  victory  was 
complete.  We  got  back  our  own  horse-artillery  guns 
which  Ayoob  took  on  29th  July,  but  they  cut  the 
throat  of  poor  Maclean  of  the  Artillery,  who  had  been 
a  prisoner,  and  well  treated  for  over  a  month.    When 


THE  AFGHAN  WAR  123 

found  his  body  was  quite  warm,  he  had  evidently  been 
killed  at  the  last  moment. 

"  White  came  from  Simla  to  Kabul  in  four  days  in 
the  height  of  the  hot  weather,  and  a  good  thing  he  did ; 
twelve  hours  lost  anywhere,  and  he  would  have  been 
unable  to  catch  the  regiment  up  in  time.  When  he 
did  arrive  he  did  everything,  and  nobly  too.  He  is 
returning  to  take  up  his  appointment  again  as  soon  as 
he  can.  He  had  offered  to  resign  but  Lord  Ripon  gave 
him  leave  of  absence  instead. 

''  Poor  Colonel  Brownlow,  72nd,  was  shot  dead. 
He  was  a  splendid  fellow,  very  like  White  in  his  manner 
of  leading  a  regiment,  and  immensely  popular  in  the 
72nd.  Captain  Stratton  of  the  22nd,  whom  you  used 
to  dance  with  at  Naini  Tal,  was  killed  by  a  stray 
Ghazi  at  the  very  end  of  the  day.  He  was  good  at  all 
games,  polo,  rowing,  cricket,  etc.,  and  also  a  splendid 
soldier. 

"  I  am  very  tired  now,  having  also  written  to  my 
father.  Lying  down  is  a  painful  process  as  I  am 
obliged  to  lie  on  one  wound  or  the  other.  I  do  hope 
I  may  be  well  enough  to  march  with  the  regiment,  but 
at  present  I  cannot  even  turn  in  bed,  without  a  good 
deal  of  help,  and  I  have  always  the  most  fiendish 
headaches,  but  that  will  soon  wear  off.'' 

I,  in  common  with  many  others  (some  of  whom 
expressed  their  views  in  writing  and  others  verbally), 
have  considered  my  husband  met  with  scant  justice 
or  appreciation  for  the  clever  way  he  got  his  company 
out  of  a  very  awkward  corner  when  through  Major 
White's  mistake  he  found  himself  out  in  the  open 
under  heavy  fire.  I  know  he  felt  this  himself,  but  in  a 
measure  it  was  his  own  fault,  for  he  was  always  so 
modest,  amounting  almost  to  self-depreciation,  that 
when  friends  wished  to  bring  his  name  forward  for 
recognition  he  strongly  objected,  and  unless  it  came 
spontaneously  he  would  have  none  of  it.  He  was  a 
man  absolutely  without  any  ambition,  and  par- 
ticularly disliked  any  form  of  self-advertisement. 
When  I  urged  him  to  let  me  reply  to  some  kind  letters 


124     MEMORIES  DISCREET  AND  INDISCREET 

I  had  received  from  people  who  had  witnessed  his 
action  on  September  ist  at  Kandahar,  and  who  were 
wishful  to  bring  his  conduct  more  prominently  to 
notice,  he  said  he  would  rather  not,  he  would  ''leave 
the  self-advertisement  business  to  those  who  like  it." 
He  was  so  ready  himself  to  acknowledge  merit  in 
others,  so  full  of  praise  for  those  who  did  well,  it 
pained  us  not  a  little  that  those  who  knew  best  what 
he  deserved  should  allow  the  moment  to  pass  without 
further  mention.  I  have  a  variety  of  interesting 
newspaper  cuttings  referring  to  the  part  my  husband 
took  in  the  battle  of  Kandahar. 

He  received  the  Afghan  Medal  with  three  clasps, 
Kandahar,  Kabul,  Charasia,  also  the  Kabul  to 
Kandahar  March  Medal,  being  also  honourably  men- 
tioned by  Lord  Roberts. 

I  have  a  tray  full  of  medals  won  by  my  husband  at 
different  times,  but  the  only  military  ones  are  those 
mentioned  above.  The  rest  are  for  walking,  running, 
jumping  and  swimming.  Amongst  others  a  cross  so 
like  the  little  bronze  one  ''  For  Valour  ''  that  it  has 
sometimes  been  mistaken  for  it  by  people  who  had 
never  seen  the  V.C.  very  close.  On  the  back  of  this 
little  bronze  cross,  which  is  suspended  from  a  green 
and  red  striped  ribbon,  is  written,  *'  Bradford  Athletic 
Festival,  July  24th,  1869.  Two  miles  walking  race 
won  by,"  etc.  etc.  Another  most  imposing  decoration 
in  bronze  I  see  was  won  at  the  Leeds  Athletic  Club, 
the  ribbon  being  purple  and  black.  In  a  purple  velvet 
case  reposes  a  very  large  and  handsome  silver  medallion 
presented  by  the  Marquess  of  Dufferin  and  Ava  to  the 
best  shot  in  the  Royal  North  Down  Rifles,  Lord 
Dufferin  being  the  Colonel. 

Other  letters  I  received  at  this  time  provided  me 
with  food  for  thought,  some  of  the  accounts  of  the 
Maiwand  disaster  on  July  27th,  1880,  too  miserable  and 
full  of  painful  incompetence  to  bear  repeating.  A 
cousin  of  mine.  General  Harry  Wilkinson,  who  was 
one  of  the  youngest  generals  in  the  Army,  and  who 
had  commanded  the  i6th  Lancers  for  some  time,  was 


THE  AFGHAN  WAR  125 

one  of  those  who  sat  on  the  Board  of  Enquiry. 
I  received  other  letters  from  those  who  had  only 
visited  the  battlefield,  yet  from  them  I  seemed  to 
picture  the  whole  scene.  Water  so  near  yet  no  one 
knew  it !  men  and  horses  dying  of  thirst,  our  troops 
coming  unexpectedly  upon  hordes  of  the  enemy 
without  knowing  even  of  their  proximity.  It  seems  all 
like  a  bad  dream,  yet  before  me,  as  I  write,  lies  docu- 
mentary evidence. 

In  one  small  enclosure  were  found  thirty-three 
unburied  bodies  of  the  men  of  the  66th  Regiment  who 
had  stood  against  the  enemy  until  all  were  killed, 
while  the  rest  of  the  troops  were  retiring  from  the  field 
in  disorder.  Lines  of  dead  artillery  horses,  showing 
most  instructively  what  the  positions  had  been.  But 
all  that  is  old  history  now,  and  as  in  the  Crimea  it 
was  a  case  of  *'  Somebody  Blundered.'' 

In  contrast  to  this  I  find  some  amusing  accounts 
and  stories  of  the  chief  characters  taking  part  on  that 
historic  stage.  I  quote  from  one  letter,  **  It  is  very 
amusing  to  witness  the  shifts  General  Baker  is  put  to 

in  keeping  Colonel out  of  the  way  when  anything 

important  has  to  be  done.  He  was  obliged  to  give  the 
man  a  brigade  on  the  13th,  but  managed  so  that  he  had 
nothing  to  do.     I  and  the  '*  old  man  "  (my  husband) 

overheard  him  say  in  reference  to  Colonel ,  *  We 

can't  have  him  in  command,  he'll  play  perfect  hell 
with  the  business,'  referring  to  some  hills  we  had  to 
take  on  the  12th.  The  poor  old  boy  gets  hopelessly 
confused  in  the  field,  generally  says  something  quite 
different  to  what  he  means,  and  swears  if  he  is  not 
understood ;  en  parenthhe  he  seldom  manages  to  carry 
out  an  order  correctly  himself." 

My  husband,  when  speaking  of  the  way  different 
men  gave  their  orders  always  spoke  of  Major  White  in 
terms  of  praise.  I  observe  in  one  letter  he  says, 
"  White's  orders  are  always  clear  and  intelligible,  he 
takes  care  to  explain  them.  Hay  is  pretty  good,  but 
not  equal  to  White." 

He  then  passes  on  to  speak   of   another   brother 


126     MEMORIES  DISCREET  AND  INDISCREET 

officer  ;  **  Dick  Cunyngham  did  splendidly  on  the 
13th.  He  had  been  on  the  sick  list  and  still  had  a  bad 
foot,  but  led  his  men  in  grand  style.  Jack  Napier  also 
has  done  very  well  indeed  and  is  very  modest  about 
it.  You  will  have  received  my  telegram  by  now 
telling  you  I  am  still  in  the  land  of  the  living.  How 
the  report  got  about  that  I  was  dead,  I  don't  know, 
but  it  was  very  general.  I  have  been  receiving 
numerous  congratulations  on  being  alive  !  .  .  . 

"  Poor  Hamilton  is  still  sick,  I  hear.  If  he  is  unable 
to  take  part  in  the  fighting  he  will  be  very  disappointed, 
as  he  is  so  keen.    I  am  forwarding  your  letter  to  him.'' 

The  *'  poor  Hamilton "  above  mentioned  is  the 
present  Sir  Ian  Hamilton,  of  whom  I  have  already 
written.  The  ''  Jack  Napier  "  was  another  favourite 
brother  officer  in  the  92nd,  to  whom  I  have  also 
already  introduced  my  readers  ;  he  was  the  second  son 
of  the  loth  Baron  Napier  and  Etterick.  *'  The  Hon. 
Jack,"  as  most  people  called  him,  was  an  athlete  and 
good  with  the  gloves,  as  well  as  being  a  most  amusing 
person.  He  is  probably  well  known  to  a  number  of  my 
readers. 

The  White  mentioned  in  many  of  my  letters  refers 
to  the  late  Field-Marshal  Sir  George  White,  v.c. 

Many  kind  friends  at  the  front  kept  me  supplied 
with  news  of  my  husband  after  he  was  wounded. 

The  present  Sir  West  Ridgeway,  who  was  then 
acting  as  political  officer  with  the  Field  Force,  was 
the  first  to  send  me  a  telegram  of  sympathy  and  to 
inform  me  of  the  hopefulness  of  my  husband's  con- 
dition. This  was  followed  quickly  by  another  tele- 
gram from  Sir  Frederick  Roberts,  who  was  also  good 
enough  to  write  later,  after  reaching  home,  saying  he 
was  sorry  to  hear  my  husband's  wounds  still  troubled 
him. 

Thanks  to  my  husband's  wonderful  constitution  it 
was  not  long  before  he  was  on  his  feet  once  more,  but 
he  was  never  quite  the  same  again  after  the  blow  he 
received  on  his  head  from  the  Ghazi's  sword,  while  he 
was  lying  helpless  on  the  ground,  suffering  from  hi§ 


THE  AFGHAN  WAR  127 

other  wounds.  I  heard  the  drummer  boy  Roddick 
won  fresh  laurels  for  himself  in  South  Africa  and  was 
recommended  for  the  Victoria  Cross,  but  died  before 
he  had  the  pleasure  of  receiving  it,  so  it  was  given  to 
his  mother.  I  always  think  it  must  be  agony  to 
receive  the  little  cross,  or  any  other  reward,  that 
would  have  meant  so  much  to  our  man  in  his  lifetime. 
It  would  only  add  to  my  bitter  pain,  I  should  feel 
resentful  and  want  to  go  and  bury  it  in  his  grave. 

The  92nd  Highlanders  had  arrived  at  Cawnpore  on 
their  way  home,  when  a  telegram  ordered  them  off  to 
South  Africa.  My  husband  was  not  one  of  those  on 
Majuba  Hill  that  fateful  February  27th,  1881,  he  was 
with  the  rest  of  the  troops  in  the  Mount  Prospect 
Camp  at  the  foot  of  the  hill.  On  the  night  of  the  26th 
the  order  came  that  all  the  troops  must  lie  down  in 
readiness  for  action,  prepared  for  any  occasion  that 
might  arise.  No  one  was  even  to  undo  a  buckle. 
Speaking  of  this  night,  my  spouse  said,  *'  In  fact  we 
were  to  sleep  with  one  eye  open. 

''  The  night  was  cold  and  dark,  no  lights  were 
allowed,  everybody  threw  themselves  down  and  cer- 
tain musical  snorings  told  me  many,  if  not  all,  were 
very  shortly  asleep. 

'*  My  foot  had  been  hurt  a  few  days  previously  by  a 
horse  standing  on  it.  No  great  harm  was  done,  but  it 
was  swollen  and  painful,  preventing  me  from  joining  the 
snoring  chorus.  At  last,  unable  to  bear  my  boot  any 
longer,  I  kicked  it  off  my  bad  foot  and  went  to  sleep. 

'*  Suddenly,  while  not  yet  properly  light,  the  bugle 
sounded  the  alarm.  We  all  scrambled  to  our  feet, 
treading  on  each  other's  faces  in  our  haste.  I  groped 
about  trying  to  find  my  boot,  but  nowhere  could  I  feel 
it,  so  there  was  no  alternative  but  to  go  without  it. 
This  I  did,  and  fought  all  day  without.  Never  again 
did  I  set  eyes  on  that  boot.*' 

While  my  husband  was  having  all  these  fine  though 
strenuous  times  fighting,  I  was  waiting  at  home. 

I  think  it  must  have  been  during  the  early  part  of 
the  hunting  season  of  1876  that  I  rnet  the  Empress  of 


128     MEMORIES  DISCREET  AND  INDISCREET 

Austria  for  the  first  time,  but  my  dates  are  rather 
foggy.  At  any  rate  she  was  renting  Cottesbrooke  Park 
and  hunting  in  the  Pytchley  Country.  Most  of  her 
suite  were  at  Guilsborough  Hall,  whilst  Count  Larish 
with  his  family  was  at  Lamport  Hall,  both  close  to 
Cottesbrooke.  I  do  not  remember  where  Captain 
Middleton  stayed  or  Prince  Kinsky,  but  they  were  a 
good  deal  with  the  Spencers  at  Althorp.  Perhaps  the 
Middletons  were  at  Newbottle  Manor,  now  I  think  of 
it  I  beheve  they  were.  All  the  houses  in  that  neigh- 
bourhood were  occupied  by  sportsmen.  Captain 
Elmhirst,  the  ''  Brooksby"  of  The  Field,  hailed  from 
The  Hall,  Blisworth,  Northampton ;  now,  I  am  sorry 
to  say,  this  fine  sportsman  is  sadly  broken  in  health 
and  the  saddle  knows  him  no  more.  But  I  was 
meaning  to  write  of  that  thrice  unhappy  woman, 
Elisabeth,  Empress  of  Austria,  whose  weak  and 
wicked  husband  has  so  lately  died  (November  22nd, 
1916),  carrying  on  his  intrigues  to  the  time  of  his 
death,  and  leaving  in  his  will  considerable  sums  of 
money  to  the  woman  who  played  so  large  a  part  in  the 
tragedy  of  the  poor  Empress's  life.  Much  of  the  un- 
happiness  was  caused  by  her  mother-in-law,  the  Arch- 
duchess Sophia,  who  was  determined  to  keep  all  power 
in  her  own  hands,  in  which  her  son,  Franz  Joseph, 
through  his  weakness  and  vanity,  seconded  her. 

It  seems  a  strange  thing  that  with  such  an  over- 
powering family  pride  the  Emperor  did  not  try  to 
uphold  its  better  traditions,  still  more  strange  that  a 
woman  possessed  of  such  spirit  as  EUsabeth  should 
have  allowed  herself  to  be  domineered  over,  either  by 
her  husband  or  his  mother,  but  these  poor  royal 
queens  are  not  allowed  to  have  any  feelings,  or  marry 
whom  they  please,  their  children  are  not  their  own, 
they  belong  to  their  country  ;  their  husbands  are  not 
their  own,  and  if  they  indulge  in  an  extra  wife  or  two, 
the  legal  and  official  wives  must  carry  their  heads  high, 
and  pretend  not  to  see.  At  times  they  must  wonder  if 
their  very  souls  are  their  own. 

A  little  study  of  the  family  history  of  the  Hapsburgs 


THE  AFGHAN  WAR  129 

and  Wittelsbachs  leads  one  to  the  conclusion  that  it 
could  hardly  have  been  expected  to  be  a  happy  union. 
Both  husband  and  wife  were  too  nearly  related  ;  also 
on  his  side  there  was  hereditary  epilepsy  and  on  hers 
hereditary  madness.  Her  cousin,  Ludwig  H  of  Bavaria, 
suffered  from  fits  of  madness,  while  she  herself  once  tried 
to  end  her  misery  by  drowning,  being  rescued  by  one  of 
her  ladies-in-waiting. 

This  remarkable  woman's  appearance  in  the  English 
hunting  field  was  very  memorable.  Austria  seemed 
almost  as  remote  and  far  away  a  place  to  the  average 
country  squire  in  those  days  as  does  '*  Ruretania  *'  in 
The  Prisoner  of  Zenda  to  the  schoolboys  of  to-day. 
Yet  she  was  an  Empress  straight  from  these  realms  of 
romance.  Imperious  and  beautiful,  flashing  across 
our  grass  countries  in  the  wake  of  the  dare-devil  Bay 
Middleton.  Both  superbly  mounted,  and  riding  as  if 
they  carried  spare  necks  in  their  pockets.  She  not  only 
rode  hard,  but  recklessly — for  the  same  reason  that  so 
many  have  ridden  recklessly — to  leave  unpleasant 
memories  behind. 

And  yet  Bay  Middleton  used  to  say  she  could  not 
make  a  horse  gallop,  but  there  he  made  the  mistake  of 
thinking  no  woman  ever  could.  Be  that  as  it  may,  he 
used  to  get  impatient  with  the  Empress  and  shout  out, 
**  Oh,  come  along,  Madame,  do  come  along  !  '* 

What  lovers  of  the  music  of  hounds  are  there  who 
have  not  started  out  in  the  morning  feeling  as  if  all  the 
cares  of  the  churches  of  Asia  were  on  their  shoulders, 
and  returned  without  a  cobweb  or  a  care  in  their 
hearts. 

The  Empress  was  a  magnificent  horsewoman.  She 
had  devoted  much  of  her  time  to  riding  after  she  left 
her  husband  the  first  time.  The  Frenchman  named 
Gebhardt  gave  her  lessons,  Eliza  Renz,  a  celebrated 
horsewoman  whose  acquaintance  she  had  made,  also 
taught  her  a  good  deal. 

It  was  during  Lord  Spencer's  second  mastership,  if  1 
remember  rightly,  that  she  came  over  to  hunt  in 
England. 


130     MEMORIES  DISCREET  AND  INDISCREET 

Prince  Kinsky  who  also  came  over  with  her  selected 
Captain  Middleton  of  the  12th  Lancers  (generally 
known  as  ''  Bay  Middleton  ")  to  act  as  her  pilot. 
A  better  choice  he  could  hardly  have  made,  for  he  was 
a  man  of  judgment  and  nerve.  He  it  was  who  intro- 
duced me  to  the  Empress  at  her  request.  It  was  at  a 
meet  at  Althorp  and  I  was  talking  to  the  great 
sporting  parson,  Jack  Russell,  at  the  moment.  What 
a  beautiful  woman  she  was  and  what  a  curious  mixture 
of  unconventional  and  imperial  dignity,  jealous  of  her 
rights,  yet  indifferent  to  comment.  She  became  a  great 
favourite  in  England ;  all  admired,  while  none  could 
help  pitying  her.  I  can  see  her  now  as  I  saw  her  first 
on  the  back  of  a  15.2  dark  brown  mare  with  black 
points,  riding  in  a  side-saddle,  for  it  was  in  the  days 
when  riding  astride  had  long  been  out  of  fashion  and 
had  not  yet  come  in  again. 

The  hats  and  habits  prevalent  in  1876  and  for  many 
years  later  look  very  ridiculous  to-day,  yet  at  the  time 
we  fancied  ourselves,  thinking  them  chic  and  business- 
like. How  did  we  keep  our  hats  on,  I  wonder  ?  with 
our  hair  dressed  so  elaborately.  But  now  I  think  of 
it  we  did  not  always  keep  them  on.  It  was  no  un- 
common sight  to  see  untidy  hair  and  hats  gone  astray. 
Then  again  the  habits,  the  voluminous  skirts  that 
required  so  much  skilful  arranging,  which  worried  an 
impetuous  mount,  longing  to  be  oS. 

At  the  end  of  that  first  season's  hunting  in  England, 
the  date  of  which  I  am  now  uncertain.  Captain 
Middleton  and  a  few  sporting  spirits  arranged  a  hunt 
meeting  on  Hopping  Hill  for  the  amusement  of  the 
Empress  of  Austria.  She  was  so  interested  in  this 
meeting  that  she  gave  two  cups  to  be  raced  for,  one  for 
the  followers  and  subscribers  of  the  hunt,  the  other 
for  the  farmers.  It  was  a  great  day,  surely  never  were 
there  such  a  crowd  of  celebrities  gathered  together  at 
a  hunt  meeting. 

Both  events  were  to  be  run  in  hunting  kit  over  a 
flagged  course,  after  the  fashion  of  our  point-to-point 
meetings  to-day  ;  that  is  to  say  before  the  war. 


THE  AFGHAN  WAR  131 

All  present  on  that  Hopping  Hill  day  will  remember 
it.  The  extreme  simplicity  of  the  arrangements,  the 
picturesque  surroundings  and  everybody  in  hunting 
kit.  All  the  country  folks  for  miles  round  had  gathered 
up  for  this  hastily  convened  meeting.  There  was  no 
grand  stand,  no  judge's  box,  it  was  just  a  simple  and 
truly  tu-ru-rural  meeting,  witnessed  by  some  of  the 
most  noted  people  of  latter-day  English  history.  The 
surrounding  hills  were  covered  with  onlookers,  for 
from  there  the  entire  course  could  be  seen,  enabling 
the  horses  to  be  watched  nearly  from  start  to  finish. 

At  the  end  of  the  run  home  stood  a  waggon,  or  hay 
cart,  and  a  huge  flagstaff,  to  tell  the  riders  it  was  the 
winning-post. 

The  day  being  bright  the  Empress  drove  up  in  an 
open  carriage  and  pair,  seated  beside  her  was  our 
present  Queen  Mother  (Alexandra),  two  beautiful  and 
stately  women.  It  must  have  been  a  novel  sight  to 
the  Empress,  its  very  simplicity  was  so  telling,  a 
beautiful  day,  a  rural  gathering  shorn  of  all  pomp  and 
manufactured  spectacular  show. 

The  excitement  was  greatly  enhanced  by  the 
Empress  presenting  two  prizes.  The  first  race,  to  be 
ridden  by  the  followers  and  subscribers  of  the  hunt, 
was  won  by  Captain  Middleton  on  a  favourite  grey 
horse  named  ''  Piccadilly,''  which  he  often  rode  when 
leading  the  Empress.  There  was  wild  excitement 
when  the  cup  was  presented  to  him.  Without  doubt 
it  was  a  popular  win,  and  I  am  pleased  to  say  the 
gallant  grey  hailed  from  Yorkshire,  being  bred  in  that 
sporting  county  ^nd  ridden  there  in  the  Holdemess 
country  for  two  or  three  seasons  by  that  charming 
sporting  parson,  the  Rev.  Cecil  Legard,who  sold  the 
gee  to  Captain  Middleton,  and  who  is,  I  am  happy  to 
say,  still  with  us. 

The  farmers'  race  was  won  by  E.  P.  Wilson,  a  very 
great  horseman,  better  really  than  Captain  Middleton. 
Wilson  was  very  successful  during  that  period  and 
later  in  his  steeplechase  riding.  Amongst  other  races 
he  won  the  Liverpool  on  *'  Voluptuary  "  in  1884,  and 


132     MEMORIES  DISCREET  AND  INDISCREET 

on  '*  Roquefort  "  in  1885.  I  believe  he  is  still  living. 
He  further  immortalized  himself  by  placing  the 
National  Hunt  Steeplechase  record  against  his  name 
by  winning  that  event  on  five  occasions,  all  being 
accomplished  on  four-year-olds,  now  not  allowed  to 
take  part  in  the  contest. 

Some  wonderful  stories  were  circulated  about  the 
Empress  when  first  she  came  over  to  hunt  in  this 
country.  I  remember  being  solemnly  told  that  she 
had  electricity  stored  on  the  pommel  of  her  saddle, 
with  which  she  used  to  surprise  her  horses  into  taking 
marvellous  jumps. 

She  certainly  had  one  curious  habit — of  carrying 
a  fan  in  her  hand,  it  looked  strangely  out  of  place  in 
the  saddle.  She  used  to  hold  it  up  between  her  face 
and  the  crowds  who  came  out  to  stare  at  her — 
ostensibly,  of  course,  to  keep  the  light  from  hurting 
her  eyes. 

It  seemed  to  me  that  fatigue  and  the  Empress  were 
strangers.  After  a  day's  hunting  that  left  most  of  the 
followers  limp,  she  would  sip  some  coffee  or  tea,  and 
do  acrobatic  exercises  ! 

It  was  a  mystery  to  me  what  she  lived  on,  her 
appetite  was  so  small,  like  our  Queen  Alexandra,  who 
eats  about  as  much  as  a  small  bird  !  The  Duchess 
Paul  of  Mecklenburg-Schwerin  was  another  who  lived 
on  air;  I  remember  once  at  luncheon  her  having  a 
private  dish  of  vinegary  cabbage  cut  up  in  shreds, 
while  the  rest  of  us  were  having  chicken,  lobster  salad 
and  other  agreeable  edibles. 

The  Empress  returned  to  hunt  in  this  country  again 
in  1878-9,  this  time  in  Ireland,  chiefly  with  the  Meath. 
I  have  heard  a  good  story  in  connection  with  this  visit. 
If  anything  was  wanting  to  prove  the  wandering 
Empress's  keenness  this  should  be  convincing. 

One  day  while  hunting  in  Ireland  somewhere  near 
Maynooth  College  the  fox  made  straight  for  the 
College  and  disappeared  through  a  hole  in  the  wall 
that  surrounds  the  recreation  ground,  shooting,  as 
she  afterwards  heard,  into  the  middle  of  a  football 


THE  AFGHAN  WAR  133 

scrimmage  hard  followed  by  the  pack.  Naturally  the 
players  were  somewhat  surprised,  but  still  more  so 
when,  almost  directly,  a  horse  leapt  over  the  wall  after 
them,  ridden  by  a  woman  in  a  dripping  habit.  This 
was  the  Empress  Elisabeth,  who,  rather  than  lose  sight 
of  the  hounds,  had  swum  across  the  river  with  her 
mount  and  then  jumped  into  the  College  grounds. 
All  were  most  polite  to  her,  and  the  head  of  the 
College  said  he  was  sorry  he  had  nothing  better  to 
offer  her  wherewith  to  replace  her  wet  habit  than  his 
doctor's  robes.  These  she  accepted  saying  something 
pleasant  about  hoping  she  might  keep  them  as  a 
remembrance  of  the  kindness  she  had  received  from 
all  at  the  College. 

There  was  great  disappointment  at  the  Viceregal 
Lodge  that  the  Empress  could  not  be  persuaded  to 
pay  them  a  visit.  She  said  she  could  not  spare  the 
time,  being  in  Ireland  for  hunting. 

The  third  visit  the  Empress  paid  to  this  country  was 
in  1880-1,  this  time  she  hunted  with  Sir  Watkin  Wynn 
— the  Cheshire  and  North  Shropshire. 

It  was  about  this  time  that  I  had  the  grief  of  losing 
my  little  son,  and  well  I  remember  the  kindness  of  the 
Empress  EUsabeth,  and  her  saying  I  had  the  comfort 
denied  to  some  of  knowing  what  I  loved  best  in  the 
world  had  been  taken  while  spotless  and  acceptable  in 
God's  sight.  Poor  woman,  she  was  without  doubt 
thinking  of  the  miserable  life  of  her  son,  the  Archduke 
Rudolph.  My  heart  went  out  to  her,  she  must  have 
felt  it  would  have  been  better  if  he  had  died  when  a 
baby. 

I  doubt  if  many  people  know  what  a  martyrdom 
that  unhappy  woman's  life  was.  She  had  so  looked 
forward  to  the  advent  of  her  baby  and  had  been 
robbed  of  him  almost  at  once,  being  told  he  belonged 
to  the  state  and  not  to  her.  It  always  struck  me  as 
rather  beautiful  the  way  when  her  miserable,  dissipated 
wreck  of  a  son  died  in  1889  she  turned  to  her  husband 
to  try  and  comfort  him  ;  forgetting  his  infideUties  and 
many  unkindnesses  in  her  anxiety  to  help  him  to  bear 


134     MEMORIES  DISCREET  AND  INDISCREET 

the  shock.  I  am  glad  she  never  knew  the  true  story 
of  her  son's  death ;  she  always  believed  he  died  by  his 
own  hand  in  a  moment  of  drunkenness,  accepting  the 
newspaper  version  of  suicide,  vC^hereas  he  was  killed 
in  a  drunken  brawl  in  his  own  shooting  lodge.  I  am 
also  more  than  glad  that  she  did  not  see  her  son's  body 
until  it  had  been  made  more  natural-looking.  The 
face  had  been  terribly  smashed  by  the  blow  of  a 
champagne  bottle,  after  which  he  had  been  dragged 
to  his  bed,  where  his  murdered  love,  her  face  also 
much  disfigured,  was  laid  beside  him. 

Count  Graf  von  Altham,  who  was  in  the  diplomatic 
service  and  an  intimate  friend  of  Prince  Rudolph, 
saw  the  body  before  any  of  the  Royal  family  were 
allowed  to  see  it.  He  said  the  Prince's  face  was  most 
wonderfully  pieced  together  and  filled  in  with  wax  so 
as  to  conceal  the  traces  of  the  blow  from  the  bottle 
before  the  body  was  placed  in  a  glass  case,  and  the 
public  allowed  to  walk  past  as  is  the  custom.  So 
cleverly  was  this  carried  out  that  the  stream  of  people, 
moving  past  in  single  file,  noticed  nothing  amiss. 

What  led  up  to  this  last  fatal  debauch,  was  a  scene 
with  his  wife  and  his  father  the  Emperor.  Prince 
Rudolph  had  never  cared  for  his  wife,  who  it  will  be 
remembered  was  Princess  Stephanie  of  Coburg.  He 
considered  her  plain  and  unattractive,  to  add  to  this 
he  was  convinced  there  would  be  no  male  heir.  Being 
a  selfish  and  unrestrained  libertine,  the  Prince's 
conduct  soon  became  so  flagrant  that  his  wife  com- 
plained to  the  Emperor  and  her  father.  The  latter 
told  her  she  had  married  for  better  or  for  worse  and  she 
must  put  up  with  it ;  besides,  he  did  not  see  what  there 
was  to  complain  about  as  she  was  the  wife  of  the 
Prince  and  had  plenty  to  eat  and  drink,  money  for  all 
her  needs,  and  what  more  could  she  want  ? 

Her  father-in-law  hardly  knew  what  to  do,  his  own 
life  not  being  exactly  blameless,  but  he  sent  for  his 
son  and  a  stormy  interview  followed,  when  no  doubt, 
a  few  mutual  recriminations  were  bandied  between 
them.     Then  came  Queen  Victoria's  Jubilee  and  the 


THE  AFGHAN  WAR  135 

Emperor  chose  the  Crown  Prince  and  Princess  to 
represent  him  in  London,  but  on  hearing  that  the  lady 
with  whom  the  Prince  was  at  the  time  epris  had 
preceded  them,  the  Princess  refused  to  go.  The 
Emperor  then  told  his  son  he  must  give  up  the  lady 
causing  all  the  unpleasantness,  and  the  Prince  sum- 
moned up  sufficient  courage  to  write  and  tell  the 
Baroness  Marie  Vetochera  that  their  friendship  must 
end  and  they  must  meet  no  more. 

Nevertheless,  they  did  meet,  for  she  was  in  the 
hunting-box  on  the  last  night  of  his  life  and  was  the 
lady  who  lost  her  life  with  him.  Some  time  before  his 
death  the  Prince  had  been  in  the  habit  of  taking 
morphia.  His  Hfe  was  one  long  debauch,  even  the 
Vienna  cabmen  joining  in  the  revels. 

After  her  son's  death  the  Empress  became  very 
silent  and  even  more  reckless  of  her  life.  The  Emperor 
begged  her  not  to  go  about  so  much  alone  as  at  that 
time  there  were  so  many  anarchists  he  feared  her 
being  harmed  :  she  replied,  *'  There  are  worse  things 
than  death.''  As  everyone  knows,  it  was  Luccheni  the 
anarchist  who  killed  her.  There  being  no  death 
penalty  in  the  Courts  of  Geneva,  Luccheni  suffers 
what  is  surely  far,  far  worse,  solitary  confinement  for 
life.  I  know  if  the  gentle  woman  he  murdered  were 
with  us  to-day  that  man  would  be  free,  she  would 
have  forgiven  him  long  ago. 

Once  the  Empress  asked  me  who  was  the  best 
doctor  in  England. 

I  answered,  "If  it  is  a  question  of  babies  send  for 

Dr.  G of  Grosvenor  Street,  he  is  very  clever  and 

asks  what  kind  of  medicine  you  like  best,  will  tell  you 
all  about  the  duchesses  he  attends,  and  the  earls  who 
have  sold  him  miserable  screws  of  carriage  horses  for 
long  sums,  which  he  gladly  paid  knowing  no  earl 
would  take  him  in  !  Remember  his  little  weakness  is 
dukes  and  duchesses." 

"  Will  not  an  Empress  do  as  well  ?  "  she  asked. 

I  repUed  I  was  sure  she  would  be  a  great  treat  ! 

*'  If  you  have  any  ordinary  malady  do  not  go  to  M 


136     MEMORIES  DISCREET  AND  INDISCREET 
S ,  he  sometimes  forgets  when  referring  to  one's 


anatomy  that  he  is  not  a  vet. 

''If  you  want  your  nerves  soothed  and  your  pulse  felt 

with  soft  white  hands,  send  for  Dr.  P of  Hertford 

Street,  he  is  cultured  and  soothing. 

''If  you  want  to  hear  all  the  latest  scandal  from 

drawing-rooms  and  kitchens  send  for '*  but  here  we 

were  interrupted.     Now  all  these  doctors  are  dead. 

Poor  Empress,  I  liked  to  see  her  amused,  she  had 
grown  so  sad  latterly.  When  speaking  about  the 
reckless  way  she  used  to  ride  at  times,  she  said  she  had 
no  fear  of  death,  saying  her  soul  had  been  dead  for  so 
many  years  it  did  not  matter  when  her  body  followed 
it,  and  this  is  what  happens  when  people  marry  who 
think  in  different  languages. 

To-day  the  murdered  mother  lies  beside  her 
murdered  son  in  the  Capuchin  Monastery.  And  now 
Franz  Joseph  has  gone.  Few  monarchs  have  reigned 
so  long  or  lived  through  such  a  wealth  of  sorrow.  But 
who  are  we  that  we  should  dare  to  judge  him  ? 

When  the  Empress  said  good-bye  to  Captain 
Middleton  on  leaving  England  she  gave  him  a  ring  as 
a  keepsake,  saying  if  ever  it  went  out  of  his  possession 
some  fatality  would  result.  Strange  to  relate  this 
proved  to  be  correct,  for  the  ring  was  stolen  from  him 
when  in  Ireland,  and  although  he  did  not  regard  it  as  a 
talisman,  both  he  and  the  giver  died  violent  deaths. 

Writing  of  this  ring  reminds  me  there  is  a  story  told 
of  certain  ill-gotten  jewels,  stolen  from  some  Hindu 
temple,  which  found  their  way  into  the  Hapsburg 
treasure-chest.  All  who  possessed  them  came  under 
the  curse  of  the  gods,  not  only  those  responsible  for 
their  removal,  but  also  those  who  even  by  accident 
became  the  owner  of  them  at  once  came  under  the  ban 
of  the  gods,  ending  in  violent  or  miserable  deaths. 

Louis  XVI  and  Marie  Antoinette  are  supposed  to 
have  had  some  of  these  jewels,  they  both  had  their 
heads  cut  off.  Louis  Philippe  is  likewise  supposed  to 
have  possessed  some,  he  died  an  exile.  King  Alexander 
and    Queen    Draga   were    again   punished   by   being 


THE  AFGHAN  WAR  137 

murdered.  Prince  Rudolph  and  his  mother.  Maxi- 
miUan  shot  in  Mexico,  and  many  more,  all  supposed 
to  have  owned  some  of  those  temple  jewels. 

Someone  told  me  a  short  time  ago  the  German 
Emperor  has  some  of  the  stolen  jewels  that  carry  such 
trouble  with  them.  If  he  is  wise  he  will  have  thrown 
them  into  the  sea,  but  then,  according  to  all  accounts, 
that  does  not  do  away  with  the  curse. 

These  curses  are  very  uncanny  things.  I  remember 
once,  on  board  ship  coming  home  from  Egypt,  meeting  a 
very  nice  boy,  named  Walter  Ingram,  some  relation 
to  the  proprietor  of  The  Illustrated  London  News.  We 
all  liked  him.  He  was  so  simple,  straightforward,  and 
withal  so  plucky.  He  had  brought  out  from  England 
a  tiny  steam  launch,  which  he  and  his  engineer  put 
together  on  arrival,  and  with  which  they  hoped  to  be 
able  to  proceed  up  the  Nile.  This  hazardous  enterprise 
was  attempted  with  only  himself,  his  engineer  and  a 
stoker  on  board,  unless  Mr.  Prior  was  with  him,  but  of 
this  I  am  not  quite  sure.  After  they  were  wrecked  he 
joined  Lord  Charles  Beresford  and  was  present  with 
him  in  the  action  of  Wad  Habeshi  above  Metemmeh 
on  February  3rd,  1885. 

While  journeying  in  Egypt  Mr.  Ingram  had  bought 
a  well-preserved  mummy,  which  he  sent  home  in  its 
wax-dipped  wrappings.  It  was  on  his  return  journey 
from  the  Nile  expedition  that  I  met  him.  Shortly 
after  this  he  went  off  on  a  big-game  shooting  expedition 
through  Abyssinia  and  Somaliland,  where  he  was 
killed  by  a  tiger,  elephant  or  some  wild  beast  and  was 
buried  on  a  small  island  standing  in  a  river  flowing 
from  Somaliland  southwards. 

His  relations  at  home  sent  out  a  man  to  locate  the 
grave  and  bring  the  body  back  to  lie  amongst  his  own 
kindred,  but  no  trace  of  the  island  could  be  found, 
although  the  Somali  hunters  who  had  been  with  the 
unfortunate  man  joined  in  the  search.  It  was  then 
discovered  that  the  island  had  been  completely 
washed  away  by  a  big  flood  from  the  Abyssinian 
mountains. 


138     MEMORIES  DISCREET  AND  INDISCREET 

As  poor  Mr.  Ingram  did  not  return  to  unpack  his 
Egyptian  curios,  they  were  attended  to  for  him,  and 
among  other  things  the  mummy  was  unwrapped.  On 
the  latter  were  found  various  writings,  which  were 
translated  by  Egyptologists,  and  were  found  to  be  a 
number  of  curses  to  fall  on  anyone  who  should  disturb 
the  rest  of  the  mummified  dead. 

"  May  he  be  abandoned  by  the  gods.  May  wild 
beasts  destroy  his  life  on  earth,  and  after  his  death  may 
the  floods  of  the  angered  rivers  root  up  his  bones,  and 
scatter  his  dust  to  the  winds  of  heaven.'' 

I  remember  a  rather  funny  incident  arising  out  of 
the  famous  mummified  Princess  in  the  British  Museum, 
which  brought  disaster  to  everybody  who  had  anything 
to  do  with  its  transhipment  to  England.  The  case 
created  a  good  deal  of  public  interest  at  the  time,  and 
one  of  the  chief  London  halfpenny  morning  papers 
began  giving  news  articles  about  it.  Each  man  on  the 
paper  who  attempted  to  write  the  article  fell  ill,  but 
they  continued  to  ''  run  "  the  story  until  the  Editor 
himself  was  seized  with  a  sudden  and  mysterious 
malady,  which  scared  him  so  much  that  he  decided 
that  not  another  word  was  to  be  written  about  the 
mummy.  So  the  '*  stunt ''  was  hastily  dropped, 
whereupon  the  sufferers  recovered  and  returned  to 
work  much  chastened. 


CHAPTER  IX 

BAY  MIDDLETON 

Bay  Middleton — His  Riding  Weight — Luncheon  in  the  York  Refresh- 
ment-room— The  Archbishop  Joins  Us — We  Ask  Him  for  Informa- 
tion— He  is  Unable  to  Give  it — Cricket  in  Ireland — A  Visit  to 
Althorp — A  Romp  and  the  Result — Captain  Middleton's  Death — 
How  it  Happened — Prince  Kinsky  Buys  "  Zoedone." 

THE  name  of  Captain  William  George  Middle- 
ton,  better  known  as  *'  Bay "  Middleton, 
recalls  many  pleasant  memories.  For  smart- 
ness it  would  be  difficult  to  find  another  trio  to  com- 
pare with  the  late  Empress  of  Austria,  her  pilot  (Bay 
Middleton)  and  their  friend,  Prince  Kinsky  :  all  good- 
looking,  well  moxmted,  and  possessing  that  knowledge, 
or  shall  I  call  it  art,  that  can  never  be  acquired,  of 
knowing  what  to  wear  and  how  to  wear  it. 

At  no  time  can  I  remember  seeing  Bay  Middleton 
other  than  smart.  Never  a  hair  out  of  place,  never 
a  crinkle  too  much  or  too  little  in  his  well-cut  and 
admirably  fitting  garments.  Boots,  stocks,  ties  and 
all  the  little  etceteras  '*  just  so.''  His  figure,  tall  and 
well  proportioned,  lent  itself  to  the  showing  off  of 
clothes  and  horses.  From  the  time  of  his  birth  in  1846 
he  appears  to  have  been  blessed  with  the  riding  thighs 
and  legs  so  necessary  for  a  firm  and  graceful  seat  in 
the  saddle.  He  was  much  envied  by  the  round-thighed 
and  round-legged  horsemen.  The  more  a  man  is  made 
after  the  fashion  of  the  sparrow,  the  better  he  looks 
when  mounted. 

It  has  always  been  a  mystery  to  me  how  Bay 
Middleton  succeeded  in  bringing  down  his  weight 
sufficiently  for  steeple-chasing,  and  I  wonder  if  he 
practised   the   heroic   measures   my    own   good   man 

139 


140     MEMORIES  DISCREET  AND  INDISCREET 

struggled  with  when  reducing  his  weight  to  ride  in 
India.  His  methods  were  a  revelation  to  me.  Hitherto 
I  had  vaguely  thought  that  if  a  man  grew  too  fat  he 
docked  his  beer  and  banted  until  his  proper  proportions 
were  regained.  I  found,  however,  that  weight-reducing 
was  a  very  serious  matter,  not  to  be  undertaken  lightly. 

I  did  not  think  that  either  Captain  Middleton  or  my 
husband  had  any  superfluity  of  substance  to  reduce  : 
but  after  a  few  weeks  in  India,  the  latter  informed  me 
one  day  that  he  wished  to  be  called  early  as  he  was 
going  to  begin  training.  At  the  appointed  time  his 
bearer  arrived  and  awakened  his  master,  who  was  a 
trifle  annoyed  in  consequence,  but  would  have  been 
more  annoyed  if  he  had  not  done  so.  While  dressing, 
my  good  man  threw  back  the  purdah  between  his 
dressing-room  and  mine,  and  conversed  with  me.  I 
could  hardly  believe  my  eyes,  for  it  was  in  the  hot 
weather,  when  I  saw  a  thick  sweater  with  long  sleeves 
and  a  high  collar  thrown  over  his  head  and  pulled  into 
place,  a  coat  was  donned  over  this,  followed  by  a 
variety  of  pants  and  trousers,  the  final  touch  being 
a  muffler  thrown  over  his  head  and  twisted  round  his 
throat.  A  voice  from  inside  these  wraps  informed  me 
he  was  off  for  a  three-mile  run  !  I  was  amazed  and 
felt  hot  merely  looking  at  him,  wondering  how  he 
could  move  at  all,  much  less  run. 

After  dressing  leisurely  I  was  just  preparing  to  leave 
my  room  with  a  handful  of  letters  and  books,  when 
back  came  my  lord,  still  running,  dashed  into  bed 
just  as  he  was,  seized  a  dressing-gown  of  mine  (that 
I  rather  fancied),  wrapped  it  round  his  head,  dived 
under  the  clothes  and  shouted  for  hot  tea  with  lemon 
and  no  milk  or  sugar.  It  all  took  place  in  a  flash,  and 
I  was  still  standing  staring  in  wonderment  when  a 
muffled  voice  drowned  in  bedclothes  and  wraps 
addressed  me,  **  Put  some  more  warm  things  on  me." 
This  process  in  varying  forms  of  severity  took  place 
daily.  All  invitations  were  declined,  as  the  sight  of 
other  people  eating  good  things  that  are  forbidden 
to  those  in  training  was  too  much  for  my  man  to  endure. 


BAY  MIDDLETON  141 

He  succeeded  in  riding  the  required  weight,  but  I  was 
not  sorry  when  the  training  was  over,  it  made  him  so 
irritable.  I  hope  Bay  Middleton  did  not  have  to  go 
through  this  ordeal. 

The  early  part  of  Bay's  life  was  divided  between 
military  duties,  racing,  steeple-chasing,  bear-fighting 
and  practical  jokes,  he  being  a  leading  member  of  the 
Practical  Joke  Committee  reigning  in  the  sixties  and 
seventies,  when  such  things  were  not  considered  bad 
taste.  Now  if  we  asked  young  men  to  stay  with  us 
and  doors  had  to  be  barricaded  against  them  at  night, 
I  doubt  if  they  would  be  asked  again,  yet  I  know  that 
when  Bay  and  some  congenial  spirits  were  staying 
with  friends,  it  was  considered  wise  to  fortify  the  doors 
at  night.  His  playful  tricks  became  so  well  known 
that  when  old  Lord  Strathnairn  went  to  stay  at  Went- 
worth  with  Lord  Fitzwilliam  and  found  Bay  a  fellow- 
guest,  he  took  the  precaution  of  placing  a  chest  of 
drawers  against  his  bedroom  door. 

Captain  Middleton  married  in  1871  Miss  Baird,  of 
Rosemount.  He  did  not  remain  long  in  the  Service 
after  this,  retiring  at  the  age  of  twenty-nine  ;  it  was 
almost  directly  afterwards  he  became  the  pilot  of  the 
Empress  of  Austria. 

There  were  two  things  I  always  regretted  about  him, 
one  was  the  way  he  used  at  times  to  lose  his  temper 
with  horses,  and  bully  them,  the  other  was  his  deaf- 
ness. He  was  only  slightly  deaf,  and  when  in  a  room 
and  all  was  quiet  he  could  hear  fairly  well ;  but  in  the 
street,  when  other  people  were  talking,  or  when  there 
was  music  anywhere  near,  it  became  necessary  to  raise 
your  voice  considerably.  It  was  easy  to  see  he  was 
hard  of  hearing  for  he  had  that  pecuHar  ''  all  attention  " 
look  in  his  eyes  which  usually  accompanies  deafness. 
I  remember  one  occasion  when  poor  Bay's  hardness 
of  hearing  made  me  feel  very  foolish.  A  large  party 
of  us  were  staying  near  York  for  one  of  the  Yeomanry 
balls,  which  were  always  popular  and  at  which  the 
County  were  well  represented.  Eight  of  us  were 
having  luncheon  in  the  station  refreshment-room  at 


142     MEMORIES  DISCREET  AND  INDISCREET 

York,  which  was  a  regular  rendezvous  at  all  times 
when  anything  was  going  on  in  the  town.  I  was  the 
guest  of  the  Rev.  George  Hustler  and  his  wife  ;  sitting 
opposite  to  me  was  Captain  Middleton;  on  my  right 
Mr.  Hustler,  a  delightful  old  sporting  parson  ;  on  my 
left  Captain  Lascelles  of  the  9th  Lancers.  There  were 
several  girls  amongst  our  party,  and  the  conversation 
and  laughter  was  fairly  general.  From  time  to  time 
Captain  Middleton  looked  at  me  enquiringly  when  he 
did  not  catch  the  joke,  and  I  repeated  it  to  him.  He 
was  very  sensitive  about  asking  anybody  to  help  him. 
In  the  midst  of  luncheon  the  Archbishop  of  York, 
Thomson  by  name,  hearing  I  was  in  the  refreshment- 
room,  came  in  to  give  me  a  message  he  wished  delivered 
to  my  mother.  He  stood  by  my  chair  chatting  for 
some  time ;  presently  there  was  a  pause,  that  made 
itself  felt.  Searching  through  my  mind  for  something 
to  say  in  the  way  of  polite  conversation  to  the  great 
man  standing  by  me  in  an  attitude  that  all  might 
admire  him,  I  asked,  bending  my  head  in  the  direc- 
tion of  a  chicken  that  Captain  Lascelles  with  his  eye- 
glass screwed  firmly  into  his  eye  and  his  brow  puckered 
was  endeavouring  to  carve,  *'  Can  you  tell  me  which 
way  up  that  chicken  would  run  if  it  were  alive  and 
kicking  ?  "  They  look  so  different  on  a  dish.  The 
poor  A.B.,  as  we  used  disrespectfully  to  call  him, 
looked  quite  worried  and  thoughtful,  evidently  he 
was  as  ignorant  of  housekeeping  matters  as  I  was. 
The  whole  table  giggled  in  a  suppressed  manner  wait- 
ing for  his  answer.  Meanwhile  Captain  Lascelles  was 
turning  the  fowl  over  and  over  into  all  sorts  of  attitudes 
to  illustrate  what  he  thought  would  be  the  most 
natural  way  for  it  to  run.  At  last  his  lordship  burst 
out  laughing  and  said  he  really  did  not  know.  Of 
course  we  all  laughed,  it  was  the  proper  thing  to  do, 
but  I  saw  Bay  Middleton  looking  at  me  with  question- 
ing eyes.  He  had  not  grasped  the  joke.  Horrid 
moment  !  Could  I  shout  it  all  out,  had  I  enough 
nerve  ?  Yes  !  it  must  be  done,  otherwise  he  would 
feel  uncomfortable,   so   I   had   to   explain   my  silly. 


BAY  MIDDLETON  143 

miserable  little  funniness,  and  his  lordship's  reply,  at 
the  top  of  my  voice,  while  everybody  stopped  to  listen. 

I  felt  like  a  parrot  belonging  to  some  relatives  of 
mine,  which  was  turned  out  of  the  room  during  family 
prayers  one  morning  because  it  would  repeat  the  rela- 
tive's petitions  to  the  Almighty.  Just  as  the  solemn 
butler  was  putting  the  cage  outside  the  door,  the  old 
bird  put  its  head  on  one  side  and  in  its  habitual  nasal 
voice  said,  "  I  wish  I  hadn't  spoke."  That  is  how  I 
felt  in  the  York  refreshment-room. 

Writing  of  people  being  a  little  deaf  reminds  me 
of  a  dear  old  lady,  a  great  friend  of  mine,  who  was 
really  very  deaf  and  always  used  a  speaking-tube.  She 
was  giving  a  large  garden  party  ;  some  of  her  family 
usually  stayed  near  to  assist  her  in  receiving  her 
guests,  but  on  this  occasion  for  a  short  time  she  was 
left  alone.  I  was  standing  near  and  saw  a  family 
party  arrive  who  had  a  cousin  staying  with  them 
home  from  the  Colonies.  Our  hostess  seeing  she  did 
not  know  the  man's  face  addressed  some  kindly  words 
of  welcome  to  him,  and  presented  him  with  the  mouth- 
piece of  her  ear  trumpet.  A  look  of  terror  spread  itself 
over  the  youth's  face  while  he  glanced  right  and  left 
for  a  way  of  escape,  but  was  hurried  up  by  a  dig  in  the 
ribs  from  those  standing  behind  him.  He  then  raised 
the  receiver  to  somewhere  near  his  face  and  shouted, 
**  Great  Scott  !  "  dropped  the  speaking-tube  and 
hurried  on,  scarlet  in  the  face  and  neck,  full  of  sorrow 
at  his  awkwardness  and  anger  with  his  relatives  for 
not  having  warned  him. 

Captain  Middleton  was  fond  of  cricket  and  formed 
one  of  Captain  Chandos  Leigh's  Zingari  eleven,  which 
occasionally  went  to  play  in  Ireland.  Bay  once 
caused  some  amusement  when  they  were  playing 
against  the  Viceregal  Lodge  during  the  Duke  of  Aber- 
com's  Lord  Lieutenancy.  It  was  after  dinner,  at  the 
Castle,  when  Sir  Chandos,  on  bended  knee  and  with 
considerable  pomp  and  ceremony,  was  in  the  act  of 
presenting  the  freedom  of  the  Zingari  to  the  Duchess. 
Mischievous   Bay   crept   up   behind   and   pinned   his 


144     MEMORIES  DISCREET  AND  INDISCREET 

pocket  handkerchief  on  to  the  coat-tails  of  the  kneehng 
courtier.  Sir  Chandos  could  not  think  what  everybody 
was  laughing  at,  and  felt  ruffled,  as  he  was  rather 
fancying  both  the  neatness  of  his  speech  and  appear- 
ance. When  he  found  out  the  way  his  otherwise 
picturesque  little  ceremony  had  been  turned  to  ridicule 
and  merriment  he  was  quite  angry. 

Prince  Kinsky  was  a  great  admirer  of  Captain  Middle- 
ton.  He  once  said,  *'  In  my  younger  days  Bay  was  my 
beau-ideal  of  a  first-rate  rider  to  hounds,  though  he 
had  rather  a  military  seat.  It  was  not  stiff ;  on  the 
contrary,  quite  elastic.  Out  hunting  he  and  his  horse 
were  a  picture  worth  looking  at."  Here  I  agree  with 
the  Prince,  so  long  as  all  was  going  well,  but  if  a  horse 
displeased  Bay  the  picture  was  not  pretty. 

The  night  before  his  marriage  Captain  Middleton 
gave  a  dinner  at  the  Cafe  Royal  in  Regent  Street. 
Some  of  those  who  were  there  speak  of  it  as  a  *'  hot 
night,"  the  scrimmages  and  bear-fighting  surpassing 
all  previous  experiences.  Prince  Kinsky  said  he 
fought  at  least  twenty  men  that  night  and  found  his 
friend  Bay  the  hardest  to  beat.  Captain  Middleton 
was  at  all  times  a  great  favourite.  I  usually  heard 
him  spoken  of  as  ''  a  good  sort,"  and  was,  I  know,  a 
warm-hearted  friend. 

Prince  Kinsky  told  an  amusing  story  of  one  of 
their  visits  to  the  Spencers  at  Althorp,  when  he  and 
Captain  Middleton  nearly  got  themselves  into  trouble 
with  their  romps  and  high  jinks.  It  happened  thus. 
The  ladies  had  gone  to  bed.  Lord  Spencer  and  the 
two  skylarkers  adjourned  to  the  billiard-room.  It 
was  not  long  before  the  romping  began.  Bay  opened 
the  ball  by  throwing  a  lemon  across  the  room  at  the 
Prince,  who  picked  it  up  and  returned  it  with  some 
force.  It  cannoned  off  his  friend  and  shot  through  the 
half -open  door  of  the  adjourning  library,  now  all  in 
darkness.  The  fighters  were  somewhat  sobered  by 
hearing  a  tremendous  crash,  evidently  broken  glass, 
and  who  could  tell  what  else.  A  catastrophe  of  some 
sort.    Speechless  and  with  long  faces  they  crept  into 


BAY  MIDDLETON  145 

tlie  room  striking  matches  to  see  what  they  had  done. 
They  hghted  candles  and  proceeded  to  examine  the 
room,  finding  a  valuable  carved  or  china  ship,  I  do 
not  remember  which,  but  worth  some  thousands  of 
pounds,  had  been  hit,  the  lemon  had  smashed  through 
the  glass  case  and  embedded  itself  in  the  ship.  Fear- 
fully and  stealthily  as  though  they  expected  the 
valuable  ornament  would  arise  and  reproach  them, 
they  examined  the  amount  of  damage  done,  most 
thankfully  coming  to  the  conclusion  that  beyond  the 
glass  case  being  shattered,  nothing  serious  had  re- 
sulted.   Fighting  was  suspended  for  that  night. 

At  the  early  age  of  fifty-six  poor  Bay  met  his 
death,  on  April  9th,  1892,  while  riding  one  of  his  own 
horses,  named  *'  Nightline,''  in  the  Midland  Sportsman 
Cup,  run  in  connection  with  the  then  annual  House 
of  Commons'  Steeplechases,  at  Kineton,  Warwickshire. 
His  horse  was  tired,  and  so  I  think  was  he,  for 
when  '*  Nightline  "  pecked,  on  landing  over  the 
double,  his  rider  seemed  unable  to  save  him.  The 
horse  while  endeavouring  to  recover  himself  threw 
up  his  head,  as  a  horse  invariably  will  when  in  trouble, 
and  caught  Captain  Middleton  on  the  chin  with  such 
force  as  to  break  his  neck  on  the  spot.  He  died  before 
the  assistance,  which  was  practically  at  hand,  had  time 
to  reach  him.  His  death  came  as  a  great  shock  to  the 
sporting  public. 

The  Empress  Elisabeth  preferred  Captain  Middleton 
to  any  one  else  as  a  pilot,  having  not  only  faith  in  his 
judgments,  but  a  great  private  regard  for  him  as  a 
faithful  and  amusing  friend.  She  always  addressed 
him  as  "  Bay,"  and  he  greatly  valued  her  friend- 
ship. 

Many  people  felt  that  with  his  death  the  hunting 
field  had  been  deprived  of  one  of  its  greatest  orna- 
ments. 

Prince  Kinsky,  or  to  give  him  his  full  name.  Prince 
Rodolphe  Ferdinand  Kinsky,  was  the  son  of  Ferdi- 
nand Kinsky  and  Marie,  Princess  of  Liechtenstein, 
is  partly  Austrian  and  partly  Hungarian.    He  became 


146     MEMORIES  DISCREET  AND  INDISCREET 

very  English  while  over  here  and  almost  as  well  known 
as  in  his  own  country.  Now  I  presume  he  is  fighting 
against  us  !  He  was  a  sportsman,  especially  fond  of 
hunting  and  racing,  being  no  mean  performer  in  the 
racing  saddle. 

It  was  while  staying  at  Combermere  with  the  Duke 
of  Westminster  that  he  saw  *'  Zoedone  '*  for  the  first 
time  winning  a  local  steeplechase.  So  impressed  was 
he  with  her  appearance  and  form  that  he  became  her 
owner  before  the  sun  set,  and  with  her  won  the  Grand 
National  in  1883,  riding  her  himself.  *'  Zoedone  " 
won  in  a  canter,  proving  the  Prince,  or  Count  as  he 
was  at  that  time,  by  no  means  a  bad  judge  of  a  good 
horse  when  he  saw  it.  Only  ten  ran  in  this  race,  the 
smallest  field  for  the  Liverpool  since  the  race  was 
transformed  into  a  handicap  in  1843,  ''Vanguard's'' 
year.  The  same  small  number  ran,  I  am  told,  in  1841 
when  ''  Charity  "  won. 

The  Prince  was  a  pleased  man  that  day  at  Liver- 
pool. I  am  told  he  rode  the  race  with  much  judgment, 
and  the  little  mare  jumped  splendidly  from  start  to 
finish,  coming  home  well  in  advance  of  *'  Black  Prince." 

At  one  time,  indeed  for  years,  the  Prince  was  a 
member  of  our  English  National  Hunt  Committee  and 
hon.  member  of  the  Jockey  Club,  holding  at  the  same 
time  the  much  envied  position  of  Chamberlain  and  Privy 
Councillor  to  His  Imperial  and  Royal  Majesty  the 
Emperor  of  Austria-Hungary. 

After  Captain  Middleton  died  Prince  Kinsky  wrote 
an  appreciation  of  him,  which  appeared  in  Gentlemen 
Riders  as  follows  : — 

''  Yes,  poor  old  Bay,  he  certainly  was  one  of  the 
best  friends  of  my  younger  days,  and  although  much 
older  than  myself  liked  me,  I  know,  because  he  loved 
a  boy  keen  for  the  horse,  keen  for  the  chase,  and  keen 
about  riding  races  over  a  country.  Another  reason 
why  he  took  to  me  from  the  first  was  because  he 
thought  I  could  hold  my  own  in  a  bear  fight,  an 
amusement  which  was  in  full  swing  when  I  first  came 
over  to  England. 


BAY  MIDDLETON  147 

*'  He  was  the  first  man  to  give  me  an  idea  of  what 
straight  riding  to  hounds  really  meant/' 

I  have  been  told  by  Prince  Kinsky's  admirers  that 
if  he  had  his  own  choice  he  would  sooner  have  drawn 
his  sword  for  England  than  for  Austria  and  Germany — 
I  wonder  ! 


CHAPTER  X 

THE  prince's  button-hole 

Lord  Dupplin  Joins  the  Life  Guards — Racing — Pigeon  Shooting — 
Paris — Musical  Parties — Marie  Ha}^ — Prince  of  Wales  in  the 
Champs  Elysees — The  Prince  Asks  a  Question — My  Reply — The 
Prince  Receives  a  Button-hole — 92nd  Highlanders  Return  to 
England — Return  to  India — Fire  in  a  Rajah's  Palace — The  Taj 
— Sir  Alfred  and  Lady  Lyall — Regimental  Doctors. 

THE  first  Earl  of  KinnouU  was  so  created  by 
James  I,  described  by  Sully  as  the  wisest 
fool  in  Christendom,  and  by  Macaulay  as 
**  made  up  of  two  men,  a  witty  well-read  scholar,  who 
wrote,  disputed  and  harangued,  and  a  nervous  drivel- 
ling idiot,  who  acted/' 

All  the  menkind  in  the  family  have  been  staunch 
supporters  of  the  Crown,  and  each  generation  has 
added  its  quota  to  the  British  Army.  The  fourth  Earl 
married  Lady  Blanche  Somerset,  daughter  of  the 
seventh  Duke  of  Beaufort,  a  most  charming  woman 
for  whom  I  often  felt  sorry  as  the  wild  spirits  of  some 
of  her  sons  caused  her  many  anxious  moments. 

My  elder  brother  at  one  time  shared  the  same  tutor 
at  Dupplin  as  Francis  and  Fitzroy  Hay.  I  am  not  sure 
if  Lord  Dupplin  and  my  brother  were  studying  there 
at  the  same  time.  All  the  Hays  were  good-looking 
cheery  souls.  The  eldest,  Viscount  Dupplin,  joined 
the  1st  Life  Guards  as  cornet  at  the  age  of  eighteen, 
retiring  five  years  later,  as  the  Life  Guards  was  too 
expensive,  when  multiplied  by  the  immensity  of  his 
own  extravagant  tastes.  I  have  not  often  met  a  man 
so  devoid  of  all  sense  of  the  value  of  money,  even 
when  most  desirous  of  retrenching  and  going  ''  canny  '' 
he  had  not  the  faintest  idea  how  to  set  about  it.    After 

148 


THE  PRINCE'S  BUTTON-HOLE  149 

leaving  the  Guards  he  devoted  his  time  to  what  he 
would  probably  have  described  as  enjoying  himself, 
though  I  doubt  whether  in  his  search  for  pleasure  he 
really  found  it.  If  so,  it  must  have  been  transient. 
Racing,  pigeon  shooting,  bilhards  and  whist  were  his 
chief  pleasures.  He  owned  some  famous  race-horses, 
and  at  one  time  promised  to  become  a  distinguished 
member  of  the  Turf  Club.  *'  Petrach "  was  un- 
doubtedly his  best  horse,  a  good-looking  animal,  with 
power  and  quality  combined,  and  at  his  best  I  think, 
as  a  three-year-old  ;  yet  this  fine  horse  did  not  bring 
him  much  luck  and  his  racing  career  was  meteoric. 
I  am  under  the  impression  he  told  me  that  Colonel 
Farquharson  and  Colonel  Oliphant  were  part  owners 
with  him  in  this  horse,  and  if  my  memory  does  not 
play  me  false  they  paid  between  ;fi2,ooo  and  £14,000 
for  him. 

The  chief  races  won  by  "  Petrach  "  for  Lord  Dupplin 
were  the  Two  Thousand,  Derby,  and  St.  Leger. 

Unfortunately  there  was  trouble  about  the  running, 
and  altogether  things  went  wrong,  more  is  the  pity, 
for  Lord  Dupplin  had  undeniable  talent  and  an  active 
brain.  If  circumstances  had  obliged  him  to  work  for 
his  living,  and  he  had  owned  a  stern  instead  of  one  of 
the  most  indulgent  of  fathers,  he  might  have  given 
some  good  account  of  himself. 

I  always  think  regretfully  of  him  as  one  of  the 
*'  might-have-beens.''  "  Petrach  "  was  eventually 
sold  to  the  late  Lord  Lonsdale,  and  won  the  Ascot 
Cup  for  him  in  1877. 

In  1871  Lord  Dupplin  married  Lady  Agnes  Duff, 
daughter  of  the  fifth  Earl  of  Fife.  It  was  not  altogether 
a  success,  and  in  1876  they  were  divorced,  Lady  Kin- 
noull  taking  care  of  the  fragile  and  delicate  little 
daughter  Marie,  now  the  Baroness  Herbert  von 
Hindenburg,  whose  husband  was  Councillor  of  the  Im- 
perial German  Embassy  at  Rome.  She  is  a  capable, 
clever  woman  and  has  written  several  books. 

Unfortunately  neither  science,  literature  nor  politics 
had  any  charm  for  "  Duppy,"  as  his  friends  called  him, 


150     MEMORIES  DISCREET  AND  INDISCREET 

though  some  of  his  racing  brethren  dubbed  him  "  Mol- 
lie/'  chiefly,  I  imagine,  because  he  was  at  all  times  attired 
in  the  very  latest  thing  in  fashions,  even  at  times 
creating  fashions  of  his  own  :  his  scarlet  tie,  in  par- 
ticular, without  which  he  would  not  have  been 
*'  Duppy/'  He  also  affected  great -coats  with  sable 
collars,  very  highly  scented  silk  handkerchiefs  and 
so  forth.  We  saw  a  lot  of  him  at  Hurlingham,  where 
he  spent  much  time  pigeon-shooting.  He  fancied 
himself  tremendously  as  a  shot,  but  those  who  knew 
his  form  better  than  I  did,  told  me  he  was  more  a 
fashion-plate  than  a  shot.  At  whist,  I  believe,  few  could 
beat  him.  He  played  remarkably  well,  but  it  is  a  game 
that  means  late  hours,  and  is  not  always  lucrative. 

Then  came  a  time  when  Lord  Dupplin  decided  that 
Paris  would  be  a  better  place  for  him  to  live  in  than 
London,  and  it  was  at  a  large  party  in  his  beautiful 
rooms  in  the  Champs  Elysees,  that  I  last  saw  him,  not 
long  before  his  death.  At  that  time  I  was  often  in 
Paris  with  relations  of  mine,  and  we  frequently  went 
to  his  musical  evenings.  Being  a  brilliant  musician 
and  pianist  himself,  he  recognised  talent  in  others, 
gathering  round  him  all  the  musical  world  within 
reach.  His  technique  was  almost  professional  and  as 
a  composer  he  was  quite  good,  some  of  his  work  being 
remarkable  for  an  amateur. 

Lord  Dupplin  had  a  large  circle  of  friends  and 
acquaintances.  These  sporting  people  usually  have 
a  larger  following  than  the  long-faced  psalm-singers. 
There  were  conflicting  rumours  as  to  the  cause  of  his 
death,  but  I  know  he  had  been  very  ill  for  a  couple 
of  years  before  he  died.  Indeed  at  one  of  the  parties 
when  we  were  present,  in  the  midst  of  accompanying 
a  woman  with  a  beautiful  voice  while  she  sang,  ''  Voila 
ce  que  je  suis  sans  toi,''  he  was  seized  with  violent 
internal  pain  and  had  to  be  helped  to  his  room  and  put 
to  bed  by  his  valet.  At  intervals  he  suffered  greatly, 
and  on  March  loth,  1886,  died  at  the  early  age  of 
thirty-seven,  having  diligently  sought  happiness  but 
never  found  it. 


THE  PRINCE'S  BUTTON-HOLE  151 

All  the  Hays  are  musical,  inherited  from  their 
mother's  side  of  the  family.  Who  is  there  that  does 
not  know  and  like  the  ''  Somerset  "  songs  ? 

Dear,  beautiful,  gay  Paris,  perhaps  Lord  Dupplin 
was  right  in  coming  to  you  for  his  dwelling-place. 
No  city  that  I  have  ever  seen  can  compare  with  your 
brilliancy.  Your  Bois  de  Boulogne  before  the  Grand 
Prix  is  run,  with  its  beautiful  carriages,  beautiful 
women,  frocks  and  chiffons  ;  family  parties  picnicking 
in  the  Bois  simply  for  the  pleasure  of  seeing  the 
kaleidoscopic  throng  going  to  and  from  the  races. 
Then,  oh  then,  the  drive  to  Longchamps,  but  I  only 
dream,  so  let  it  be,  for  in  our  dreams  we  are  always 
young,  strong  and  happy. 

There  is  something  infectious  in  the  air  of  Paris. 
We  cast  aside  our  gloom  and  poker-back  dignity, 
unbend,  become  bright  and  buoyant,  like  the  inhabi- 
tants of  the  city,  and  cease  to  take  too  seriously  the 
problems  of  life.  Even  the  most  solemn  and  righteous 
churchwardens,  the  most  prim  and  proper  papas 
become  a  little  human  under  its  influence.  Some 
have  been  known  to  give  cheery  little  suppers  to  bright 
little  friends.  Portly  old  gentlemen  wink  gentle  sub- 
dued little  winks  at  one  another,  then  return  to  their 
families  and  take  life  once  more  au  grand  serieux,  as 
our  friends  over  the  water  would  say.  Occasionally 
in  this  Gay  City  one  comes  across  those  whose  names 
have  been  household  words,  now  unremembered,  and 
anxious  to  remain  so. 

Marie  Hay,  Lord  Dupplin's  little  daughter,  used  to 
stay  with  him  sometimes,  but  Paris,  for  any  length  of 
time,  was  not  considered  good  for  her.  I  think  his 
most  cherished  possession  was  his  beautiful-toned 
piano,  which  stood  in  a  large  and  lofty  drawing-room 
admirably  adapted  for  music.  King  Edward  VII, 
always  kind  to  those  down  on  their  luck,  used  often 
to  go  and  see  him  when  in  Paris.  Was  there  ever  so 
natural  and  gracious  a  king  ?  Though  at  that  time  he 
was  still  Prince  of  Wales.  He  came  to  a  small  musical 
evening  there  once  when  we  were  among  the  guests, 


152     MEMORIES  DISCREET  AND  INDISCREET 

and  his  blending  of  dignity  and  bonhomie  was  charm- 
ing. A  few  years  later,  while  at  a  ball  given  by  the 
officers  of  one  of  the  Highland  regiments  at  Parkhurst 
barracks  in  the  Isle  of  Wight,  I  was  standing  in  the 
middle  of  the  room  between  some  of  the  dances  talking 
to  partners,  when  someone  touched  me  on  the  arm, 
saying,  ''  Do  you  know  you  are  standing  with  your 
back  to  the  Prince  ?  ''  I  turned  hastily  and  made  my 
best  curtsey  and  apologies,  H.R.H.  smiled  and  said 
he  quite  understood.  After  one  or  two  pleasant  little 
remarks  about  my  programme  being  so  full,  and 
should  he  see  me  at  the  meet  of  the  hounds  at  the 
barracks  the  following  morning,  he  concluded  by 
saying,  ''  I  don't  think  I  have  seen  you  at  one  of  my 
mother's  drawing-rooms  lately,  have  I  ?  ''  This  was 
quite  true,  and  I  was  rather  put  to  it  for  an  explana- 
tion, so  chose  the  true  one,  and  said,  ''  No,  Sir,  I 
cannot  afford  the  frock  just  now.''  He  was  amused 
and  replied,  ''  Oh,  but  you  should,  you  know,  you 
should."  I  think  that  dance  was  given  by  the  Black 
Watch,  but  cannot  be  certain ;  it  was  one  of  the  High- 
land regiments. 

I  remember  a  pretty  little  incident,  one  August  long 
ago,  at  Cowes,  between  the  Prince  of  Wales  and  little 
Hilda  Grant,  daughter  of  Mr.  Richard  Grant,  Secretary 
of  the  Yacht  Squadron.  Miss  ''  Fonie  "  Cust  and  I  were 
having  tea  one  day  with  Mr.  Grant  in  his  pretty  little 
house  close  to  the  Old  Castle,  now  the  home  of  the 
Royal  Yacht  Squadron.  I  forget  the  name  of  this 
little  abode,  but  it  was  close  to  the  sea  and  just 
below  *'  Nubia,"  where  the  Godfrey  Barings  lived. 
At  the  time  of  which  I  am  writing,  Mr.  Grant  was  a 
widower.  While  we  were  having  tea  the  Prince  of 
Wales  strolled  in  to  see  him  and  joined  us.  Presently 
little  Hilda  Grant  passed  the  window  returning  from 
her  walk,  a  dainty  little  maid  of  seven  or  eight  summers. 
Her  father  beckoned  to  her  to  come  in.  On  entering 
the  room  she  looked  round  to  see  if  she  recognised  any 
of  us,  and  advanced  towards  me  as  if  to  shake  hands, 
but    suddenly   turned   round    and    going   up   to    the 


THE  PRINCE'S  BUTTON-HOLE  153 

Prince,  made  a  sweet  little  curtsey.  He  shook  hands 
with  her  and  asked,  *'  Do  you  know  me.  Who  am 
1  ?  "  With  wide-open  eyes  riveted  on  his  face,  she 
answered,  *'  Yes,  you  are  Mr.  Prince.''  He  was 
delighted  with  this  self-composed  and  pretty  little 
maid  and  asked  if  he  might  have  a  flower  out  of  the 
tiny  posy  she  carried  in  her  hand.  They  were  hanging 
their  heads  and  looking  rather  sad,  but  without  a 
vestige  of  awkwardness  she  spread  her  treasures  on 
the  ground,  chose  a  little  yellow  rosebud  with  a  piece 
of  fern  and  handed  them  to  him.  He  asked  her  to 
place  them  in  his  button-hole  for  him  while  he  sat  on 
a  low  chair  within  her  reach  and  held  out  the  lapel 
of  his  coat  to  assist  her.  How  they  managed  it  I  do 
not  know,  but  suddenly  she  clasped  her  hands  together 
and  burst  into  a  merry  peal  of  laughter,  for  the  head 
of  the  rosebud  had  broken  off  and  fallen  on  the  floor 
with  a  plop.  She  was  anxious  to  go  out  and  search  for 
a  fresh  one,  but  was  told  by  her  father  that  it  was  her 
tea-time. 

I  congratulated  my  old  friend  Mr.  Grant  on  his 
daughter's  manners  and  self-possession.  He  said  she 
saw  so  many  people  it  prevented  her  becoming  gauche 
or  shy.  This  little  person  is  now  the  wife  of  Sir  Charles 
Hilton  Seely,  member  for  the  Mansfield  Division  of 
Notts. 

Francis  Hay,  a  younger  brother  of  Lord  Dupphn's, 
was  a  popular  and  cheery  soul.  He  had  chosen  the 
navy  as  his  profession.  If  I  remember  rightly  I  heard 
him  say  something  about  having  had  a  difference 
with  his  commander,  after  which  he  became  a  captain 
on  a  P.  and  O.  He  also  died  quite  young,  being  only 
thirty-one.  I  remember  taking  him  and  his  brother 
Fitzroy,  the  late  Earl  of  Kinnoull,  to  a  dance  at  Lupton, 
near  Torquay.  I  was  spending  the  winter  there,  and 
had  been  asked  by  the  late  Sir  Bernard  and  Lady 
Samuelson  to  take  a  party  of  young  people  to  their 
dance.  Both  Francis  and  Fitzroy  were  splendid 
dancers  and  fond  of  it.  They  enjoyed  themselves  so 
much  on  this  occasion  that  I  could  not  persuade  them 


154     MEMORIES  DISCREET  AND  INDISCREET 

to  come  away.  I  think  they  bribed  the  band  to  play 
extras  for  them  and  kept  begging  me  to  stop,  pleading 
each  time  for  just  one  more.  I  could  see  plainly  that 
our  tired  host  and  hostess  wished  to  go  to  bed  so 
bade  them  good  night  and  left  my  two  young  friends 
to  come  home  the  best  way  they  could.  They  came 
back  to  Torquay  with  the  band,  in  the  rosy  hues  of 
early  dawn. 

Torquay  was  very  bright  that  winter ;  dinners, 
dances,  concerts,  and  theatricals  following  one  another 
in  quick  succession. 

I  remember  getting  a  little  mixed  with  my  invita- 
tions, having  mislaid  one  or  two  cards,  amongst  them 
one  from  the  Wilsons  of  Rigmaden  Park,  who  were 
spending  the  winter  at  Lunedale,  Torquay.  I  felt  sure 
I  remembered  the  date,  so  drove  up  to  their  door  in 
one  of  my  best  Sunday-go-to-meeting  frocks,  only  to 
find  a  forbidding  darkness  about  the  house  and 
grounds  which  struck  me  as  strange.  What  struck  me 
as  still  more  strange  was  the  long  time  I  waited  before 
the  door  was  answered. 

At  last  the  footman  arrived,  followed  shortly  by 
the  butler  with  big  owl-like  eyes  but  perfect  manners. 
I  suggested  that  I  had  been  asked  to  dinner,  the  foot- 
man looked  frightened  and  backed  into  the  hall.  The 
butler  then  came  forward  and  explained  that  the 
dinner  was  on  the  morrow.  I  was  full  of  apology  for 
having  so  stupidly  made  a  mistake  and  was  about 
to  depart  when  Mr.  Christopher  Wilson,  the  son, 
came  to  the  door  and  said  his  people  were  dining  out 
and  he  was  all  alone  and  having  a  mutton  chop, 
otherwise  he  would  have  asked  me  to  come  in  and 
share  it.  We  laughed  over  my  silly  mistake  and  I 
returned  home,  leaving  Mr.  Wilson  to  finish  his  dinner 
in  peace. 

At  last  in  1881  came  the  news  that  the  92nd  High- 
landers were  coming  home.  My  husband  broke  it 
gently  to  me  that  I  must  not  expect  to  see  them  land 
at  Southampton  looking  very  spick  and  span,  as  many 
of  them  had  little  left  after  three  years^f  campaigning 


THE  PRINCE'S  BUTTON-HOLE  155^ 

except  spats  and  umbrellas,  which  is  what  they  pro- 
posed landing  in.  All  those  at  home  in  any  way  con- 
nected with  the  regiment  went  to  stay  at  Southampton 
to  welcome  it.  The  Duke  of  Richmond  and  Gordon 
addressed  them  as  soon  as  they  left  the  ship,  also 
Major  White,  the  latter  saying  he  wished  he  had  been 
with  them  in  South  Africa,  but  could  not  be  spared 
from  his  staff  appointment. 

We  were  a  large  party  at  the  chief  hotel  near  the 
landing-stage,  and  all  were  merry  and  bright. 

Soon  after  the  return  of  the  regiment  my  husband 
exchanged  into  the  78th  Seaforth  Highlanders  stationed 
at  Lucknow  in  India,  so  back  we  went  to  a  station 
within  a  few  miles  of  Sitapur,  the  latter,  however, 
being  a  village  while  Lucknow  was  an  historic  city. 

Our  voyage  out  was  not  eventful.  We  were  rather 
a  dull  party  on  board,  but  that  is  not  astonishing 
considering  the  month  was  September,  about  the 
hottest  time  in  the  whole  year  in  the  Red  Sea.  At 
Suez  as  usual  we  met  a  number  of,  people  we  knew. 
I  cannot  remember  passing  Suez  without  meeting 
people  from  all  parts  of  the  earth  in  the  hotel  court- 
yard. Whom  does  one  not  meet  out  there  ?  Military 
big-wigs,  who  give  the  impression  the  whole  place 
belongs  to  them,  statesmen,  who  explain  and  are 
apologetic  for  being  there,  persons  of  various  denomina- 
tions, regarding  each  other  with  jackdaw  eyes  of  suspic- 
ion, brides  and  bridegrooms,  adventurers,  pale-faced  and 
wistful  little  children  on  their  way  home,  and  lusty- voiced 
children  on  their  way  out.  This  is  the  half-way  house 
where  the  Northern  and  Western  cold  aloofness  begins 
to  thaw.  A  man  from  home  may,  while  looking  with 
eyes  of  interrogative  doubt,  answer  some  kindly  meant 
sociability  from  an  Anglo-Indian  or  traveller  from  the 
south  with  a  lukewarm  reply.  By  the  time  that 
superior  man  reaches  Bombay  he  will  grasp  the  hand 
in  unfeigned  delight  of  any  one  of  any  nationality 
who  will  speak  to  him  in  accents  kind  and  mild. 

Then  there  is  the  opposite  stream  of  good  people 
returning  from  the  East.     Commissioners   and  their 


156     MEMORIES  DISCREET  AND  INDISCREET 

wives,  statesmen,  military  doctors,  lawyers  from  Bom- 
bay who  have  made  untold  sums  pleading  cases  for 
rich  rajahs,  and  many  others  who  have  been  holding 
positions  of  importance,  carrying  their  heads  high  in 
consequence.  At  Suez,  a  little  of  the  mantle  of  their 
greatness  falls  from  them  ;  the  cosmopolitan  crowd 
is  even  so  ignorant  as  not  to  recognise  them.  Visions 
of  home  arise  where  they  will  be  one  of  the  crowd, 
jostled  here  and  there  and  of  no  particular  importance. 
Nobody  knows  they  have  arrived  at  Suez,  and  nobody 
would  care  if  they  had  not. 

Many  times  I  have  entertained  myself  watching 
people  in  this  well-run  hotel  at  Suez,  under  the  manage- 
ment of  the  P.  and  O.  Company,  where  Greek  meets 
Greek,  yet  neither  feeling  quite  assured  of  his  position. 
It  is  quite  diverting. 

I  missed  my  little  friend,  Monsieur  Lesseps,  on  the 
Canal.    He  was  away  with  the  mosquitoes  at  Panama. 

Lucknow  is  one  of  the  most  delightful  stations  in 
India.  It  is  picturesque,  with  lovely  gardens  and  big 
shady  trees,  and  it  has  also  a  large  mixed  society,  pre- 
venting any  chance  of  the  weariness  and  petty  quarrels 
which  often  arise  in  a  smaller  station.  A  big  bungalow 
was  hired  for  us  by  an  old  friend  of  my  husband's,  the 
Rev.  J.  W.  Adams,  v.c.  In  India  everybody  likes  as 
many  letters  of  the  alphabet  after  their  name  as 
possible,  though  the  Padre,  bless  him,  would  not  have 
minded  if  they  had  been  forgotten. 

We  managed  to  make  the  large  barn-like  buildings 
look  fairly  comfortable  with  treasures  brought  from 
home,  but  which  the  fish-insects  and  white  ants  treat 
with  little  respect. 

I  had  very  good  servants  in  India,  and  strange  as 
it  may  seem,  when  we  arrived  at  Bombay  several  who 
had  been  in  our  service  while  at  Sitapur  presented 
themselves  at  our  hotel  asking  to  be  re-engaged. 
How  they  knew  we  were  returning  to  India  I  have 
no  idea.  Other  people  have  told  me  this  has  hap- 
pened to  them  in  exactly  the  same  way. 

My  head  servant,  Abdul,  a  young  man  who  spoke 


THE  PRINCE'S  BUTTON-HOLE  157 

very  fair  English,  was  new.  He  was  responsible  for 
the  behaviour  of  the  rest,  and  though  I  understand 
he  waxed  rich  while  in  our  service,  would  not  allow 
anybody  else  to  do  so  beyond  a  certain  limit.  I  only 
had  two  differences  of  opinion  with  this  little  man. 
One  happened  thus.  I  thought  both  the  oil  for  the 
lamps  and  also  the  tea  were  going  too  quickly.  Abdul 
not  only  looked  after  the  rest  of  the  establishment 
but  constituted  himself  my  special  guardian,  standing 
always  near  my  chair  or  sitting  outside  the  room  where 
I  might  happen  to  be,  held  my  keys  and  looked  after 
the  stores  and  provisions  generally. 

When  I  expressed  my  opinion  about  the  amount 
of  oil  and  tea  being  used,  with  a  deep  salaam  he  bowed 
and  placed  the  keys  beside  me  on  my  writing-table, 
requesting  me  to  relieve  my  humble  servant  of  the 
responsibility  by  giving  out  the  stores  myself.  I 
replied,  "  Very  good,  so  I  will,''  finding  to  my  infinite 
dismay  that  I  could  make  neither  of  the  commodities 
in  question  go  nearly  as  far  as  my  ''  humble  servant  " 
had  done,  so  I  put  a  brave  face  on  it  and  gave  back  the 
keys,  saying  I  could  not  make  the  things  last  any 
longer  than  he,  Abdul,  had  done.  The  little  man  was 
wreathed  in  smiles  and,  bowing  low,  took  the  keys 
and  disappeared.  The  fact  was,  I  suppose,  that  either 
they  had  another  key  or  else  some  dodge  by  which  they 
got  in,  perhaps  they  took  out  some  of  the  wood  from  the 
big  doors  of  the  store  cupboard,  but  that  I  do  not  know. 
All  I  can  vouch  for  was  that  the  things  went  very  fast, 
but  faster  when  I  gave  them  out  than  when  Abdul  did. 

The  other  occasion,  when  our  relations  were  strained, 
was  in  connection  with  my  English  maid,  whom  I  had 
taken  out  with  me.  The  servants  were  very  jealous 
and  did  their  utmost  to  make  me  dissatisfied  with  and 
distrustful  of  her.  I  think  she  kept  her  eye  on  the 
dessert  and  such-like  dainty  comestibles,  which  was 
thwarting  and  annoying. 

After  a  variety  of  complaints  and  suggestions  that 
she  was  not  honest,  there  came  a  climax  one  day  when 
I  had  passed  a  sleepless  night  and  was  feeling  irritable. 


158     MEMORIES  DISCREET  AND  INDISCREET 

My  bearer,  Abdul,  came  to  me  saying  he  wished  to 
prove  how  dishonest  my  EngUsh  servant  was,  and 
would  I  come  with  him  and  demand  to  see  what  was 
in  one  of  her  boxes.  I  replied  ''  Certainly/'  and  went 
to  my  maid's  room.  It  was  rather  awkward  for  me, 
but  she  was  a  very  good  girl  as  far  as  her  work  was 
concerned,  and  very  honest.  So  I  explained  what 
the  servants  had  been  saying  and  that,  of  course,  it 
was  false,  but  the  best  way  to  put  an  end  to  the 
gossip  would  be  for  her  to  open  her  box  and  make  the 
natives  ashamed  of  themselves,  as  three  of  them  had 
now  appeared  with  tales  of  her  misdoings.  The  poor 
girl.  Smith  by  name,  opened  her  box  at  once  with  a 
key  from  her  pocket,  and  there,  lying  just  on  top, 
were  the  very  things  my  servants  had  accused  her  of 
having  stolen,  namely,  some  silk  night  garments  and 
other  things  of  that  nature.  She  first  turned  very 
white  then  burst  out  laughing.  I  could  see  plainly  it 
was  a  got-up  case  by  the  bearer  and  his  brethren,  who 
had  arranged  this  little  surprise.  So  I  turned  angrily 
on  them  and  told  Abdul  he,  or  some  one  known  to  him, 
had  done  this  thing,  and  if  I  found  any  repetition  of 
such  disgraceful  conduct  I  should  part  with  them  all 
and  take  so  much  off  their  wages  by  way  of  a  fine, 
and  there  the  matter  ended. 

I  have  every  reason  to  be  grateful  to  my  Indian 
servants.  They  were  very  attentive  and  kind  to  me 
and  more  honest  than  very  many  English  ones  that 
I  have  met  with.  While  in  sickness  or  sorrow  they 
excel  in  patient  kindness. 

The  English  of  some  of  the  native  servants  is  amus- 
ing. When  a  servant  comes  to  ask  for  employment  he 
presents  you  with  a  variety  of  notes,  or  ''  chits,"  as 
they  are  called  out  there.  These  are,  or  purport  to  be, 
characters  from  their  former  employers.  While  reading 
them  the  owner  keeps  up  a  running  accompaniment, 
explaining,  *'  Me  Christian !  Mem-sahib,  me  drink 
brandysh  (brandy),  eaty  meats  and  swear  like  the 
Captain  Sahib."  I  have  been  told  a  rather  funny 
story  which  I  believe  is  quite  true. 


THE  PRINCE'S  BUTTON-HOLE  159 

A  servant  had  been  engaged  and  taken  up-country. 
He  soon  asked  for  leave  to  go  and  bury  his  wife,  im- 
ploring his  master  to  advance  him  some  money  for 
the  funeral  expenses,  saying,  **  Please  give  some 
money  quick  as  she  will  not  kip  !  '' 

A  merry  subaltern  I  once  knew,  who  is  now  a  big 
official,  so  I  dare  not  give  his  name  in  connection  with 
this  story,  when  first  he  joined  his  regiment  in  India, 
took  delight  in  teaching  his  young  bearer  English 
sentences  and  little  *'  mots,"  which  of  course  the 
native  did  not  understand.  This  was  all  very  well 
and  quite  funny,  until  Sir  Frederick  Haines,  then 
Commander-in-Chief,  riding  past  the  bungalow  one 
day  asked  the  bearer  if  his  master  was  at  home,  and 
received  in  reply,  '*  Not  for  Jo.'' 

Being  anxious  to  see  the  Taj  Mahal  at  Agra,  a  friend 
who  knew  the  Rajah  owning  the  palace  there  asked 
him  if  he  would  lend  it  to  me  while  staying  in  that 
city.  He  very  kindly  placed  it  at  my  disposal,  being 
elsewhere  himself  at  the  time.  The  pleasure  of  this 
visit  was  much  spoilt  by  what  might  have  been  an 
awkwardness  of  some  importance. 

My  maid,  wishing  to  air  the  mattresses,  without 
which  none  travel  in  India,  stood  them  up  in  front  of 
a  fire  she  had  lighted  in  a  spacious  apartment  allotted 
to  her,  and  left  them  while  she  unpacked.  On  return- 
ing she  found  one  had  fallen  into  the  fire  and  was 
blazing  merrily,  the  whole  room  and  those  adjoining 
being  enveloped  in  smoke.  Fortunately  I  had  not 
left  the  palace,  as  we  wished  to  see  the  Taj  by  moon- 
light, so  I  dashed  out  of  my  room  and  besought  the 
servants  to  call  the  Bhistis  (water-carriers)  to  put  it 
out.  I  was  informed  they  were  not  on  the  premises 
but  would  be  sent  for.  I  then  implored  our  soldier 
guards  marching  up  and  down  by  the  entrance  to 
come  and  put  out  the  fire,  but  they  said  they  dare  not 
leave  their  posts  for  all  the  fires  in  the  world.  Mean- 
while I  expected  the  whole  palace  to  be  burnt.  A  nice 
little  return  for  His  Highness's  hospitality  ! 

On  my  return,  after  galloping  about  seeking  assist- 


i6o     MEMORIES  DISCREET  AND  INDISCREET 

ance,  my  maid  informed  me  the  Bhistis  had  arrived 
and  thrown  the  mattresses  outside,  but  that  not  much 
damage  had  been  done  to  the  building,  which  was 
indeed  fortunate  as  the  place  looked  as  if  it  would 
burn  very  easily. 

The  next  thing  was  to  break  the  news  to  our  friend 
who  had  borrowed  the  palace  for  us,  and  ask  him  to 
convey  our  profound  apologies,  and  then  to  try  to 
forget  all  about  it.  But  I  shall  always  remember  the 
guards'  faces  when  I  told  them  the  palace  was  on 
fire.  I  could  plainly  see  they  thought  it  was  a  plot 
on  our  part.  They  jabbered  to  one  another  and  sent 
messengers  in  every  direction  except  that  of  the  fire. 
.  I  had  not  properly  recovered  from  my  shock  when 
we  drove  out  to  the  marble  Taj  that  night,  but  soon 
forgot  all  my  anxieties  in  wonderment.  This  dazzlingly 
beautiful  building  has  often  been  both  photographed 
and  described,  but  neither  conveys  a  true  impression 
of  the  place  ;  for  it  is  not  entirely  the  structural  beauty 
of  the  building  that  is  so  arresting :  the  cool  white 
marble,  the  jewelled  screen,  the  four  minarets  ;  it  is 
the  atmosphere  and  many  whispers  that  strike  you 
dumb.  First  there  is  the  influence  of  the  wondrous 
moon,  not  like  even  our  glorious  harvest  moon,  but 
the  unchallengeable  moon  of  the  East,  that  lures  you 
from  your  bed  speaking  of  things  that  know  not 
words,  the  something  that  is  neither  prayer  nor  praise, 
but  akin  to  both.  Then  that  profound  silence,  those 
mystic  shadows,  the  spirit  that  dwells  around  that 
tomb,  telling  of  the  mighty,  soulful  love  that  could 
not  rest  until  it  had  found  expression  in  the  erection 
of  the  most  beautiful  tomb  Shah  Jehan  could  con- 
ceive as  a  memorial  to  his  supreme  love. 

I  have  stood  in  awed  silence  by  that  jewel-studded 
screen,  and  at  the  top  of  the  steps  leading  down  to  the 
Taj,  and  felt  a  little  tremble  creep  into  my  hands  and 
heart  from  emotion  as  I  gazed  my  fill  at  the  blue- 
black  sky,  studded,  as  it  were,  with  the  souls  of  those 
who  have  gone.  The  reflection  of  the  moon — Taj — sky 
— and  stars,  in  the  ornamental  water  lying  so  still  and 


THE  PRINCE'S  BUTTON-HOLE  i6i 

calm,  carried  away  far,  far  into  the  world  of  faith  and 
love  that  constrained  Shah  Jehan  to  commemorate  in 
such  a  manner,  the  chief  love  of  his  life.  The  soul  can 
never  be  satisfied  with  anything  lower  than  itself,  and 
who  can  fathom  the  depths  of  that  man's  feelings  ? 
It  has  always  seemed  to  me  he  reached  the  borders 
of  the  Great  Beyond  where  only  love  can  dwell. 

There  is  a  certain  mystery  about  the  East  and  its 
people,  an  undefinable  something  that  we  seem  to  get 
near  but  are  unable  to  touch ;  their  faiths  are  to  the 
individual  very  real,  and  nothing  can  move  them. 
They  are  not  blown  about  by  blasts  of  vain  doctrines 
as  are  the  people  of  the  West.  The  Mahometans  at 
their  devotions  are  an  impressive  sight,  their  religious 
fervour,  their  attitudes  of  lowly  and  devout  supplica- 
tion are  moving  and  unequalled. 

Lucknow  is  written  large  across  my  brain.  I  am  not 
sure  it  is  not  engraved  upon  my  heart,  not  entirely 
because  I  loved  it  dearly,  or  because  I  was  unhappy 
there.  I  think  it  was  because  while  there  I  contrived 
in  about  twelve  months  to  live  through  a  whole  life- 
time of  feelings  and  experiences,  tasting  joy,  sorrow, 
suffering,  excitement,  friendship,  disillusions,  and  for 
ever  staring  into  the  open  graves  of  the  exiles  who 
have  been  with  us  in  the  morning,  gone  by  night,  and 
buried  next  day.  I  seemed  to  come  in  touch  with 
almost  every  phase  of  human  nature  and  emotion. 

Gaiety,  forced  gaiety,  is  the  order  of  the  day  in 
India.  This  must  be  so,  for  it  is  the  land  of  partings, 
and  none  of  us  wish  to  wear  our  hearts  on  our  sleeves. 
We  have  no  business  to  burden  other  people  with  our 
sorrows,  each  has  enough  of  his  own.  While  all  are 
kind  and  friendly  to  one  another,  equal  exiles  in  a 
foreign  land,  few  are  really  intimate.  They  meet 
daily  perhaps,  are  friendly  to  one  another,  but  the 
innermost  being  of  their  nearest  and  best-known 
neighbours  is  a  closed  book.  We  know  not  and  care 
not  who  they  are,  or  whence  they  came,  whether 
married,  single,  rich  or  poor,  but  value  them  according 
to  the  way  they  help  us  to  pass  the  time  and  forget. 


i62     MEMORIES  DISCREET  AND  INDISCREET 

I  had  the  bad  luck  one  morning  in  the  cold  weather 
to  have  a  nasty  fall.  We  had  been  out,  my  husband 
and  I,  in  the  early  dawn,  with  the  hounds,  but  had 
not  found  a  jackal  who  would  play  the  game  and  go 
away  in  a  sporting  manner,  consequently  when  we 
returned  to  our  bungalow  the  ponies  were  still  jumping 
out  of  their  skins,  so  my  husband  suggested  we  should 
put  them  over  the  jumps  in  our  compound,  which  were 
there  for  the  purpose  of  schooling  ponies. 

Whether  the  hght  was  bad  or  what  happened  I  do 
not  know,  but  my  mount  turned  a  complete  somer- 
sault with  me  through  the  middle  of  a  mud  wall.  He 
was  one  of  the  cleverest  animals  we  had  in  the  stable 
and  had  been  over  the  same  jump  many  times.  Poor 
little  beast ;  he  got  up  so  carefully  to  avoid  treading 
on  me  and  fortunately  I  kept  the  reins.  I  heard  my 
lord  say,  '*  My  God,  she's  broken  her  neck  this  time  !  '' 
But  I  had  done  nothing  of  the  kind,  though  my  collar- 
bone was  broken  and  I  was  rather  badly  hurt  by  the 
saddle.  In  consequence  I  was  very  ill  and  laid  up  a 
long  time.  It  was  then  I  had  my  first  experience  of 
regimental  doctors,  and  from  the  bottom  of  my  heart 
pitied  the  soldiers  and  their  wives  left  to  their  tender 
mercies.  After  this  accident  the  military  doctor 
who  came  to  give  an  anaesthetic  to  me  fell  into  a  pro- 
found slumber  of  so  alcoholic  a  nature  that  no  one 
could  wake  him  and  another  had  to  be  fetched.  Lady 
Lyall  used  to  be  very  good  to  me  and  sit  with  me  when 
the  rest  of  the  world  and  their  wives  were  dancing, 
playing  tennis  and  listening  to  the  band.  Her  husband 
being  at  that  time  Lieut. -Governor  of  the  North- West 
Provinces  and  Chief  Commissioner  of  Oude.  Both 
Sir  Alfred  and  his  wife  were  very  kind  to  me.  The 
former  was  an  emotional  man,  fond  of  music  and 
poetry.  Indeed,  he  was  no  mean  poet  himself.  He 
gave  me  the  impression  of  being  one  of  the  few  men 
holding  appointments  in  India  who  were  really  in- 
terested, heart  and  soul,  in  her  people.  He  did  much 
valuable  work  in  India,  especially  as  Foreign  Secretary 
to  the  Government  during  the  time  of  the  Afghan  War. 


THE  PRINCESS  BUTTON-HOLE  163 

In  1880  Lord  Ripon  sent  his  name  up  for  the  honour 
of  a  Knighthood  of  the  Bath,  expressing  it  as  his 
opinion  Mr.  Ly all's  invaluable  services  were  deserving 
of  it.  There  appears  to  have  been  some  little  demur 
about  conferring  the  Knighthood,  but  Lord  Ripon, 
at  all  times  most  faithful  to  those  who  worked  with 
him,  wrote  home  to  Lord  Hartington,  saying  he  should 
be  deeply  hurt  and  disappointed  if  Mr.  Lyall's  work 
was  not  acknowledged  and  that  he  would  feel  **  utterly 
ashamed  "  to  accept  any  thanks  himself  unless  the 
man  who  had  really  deserved  praise  much  more  than 
he  did  received  some  suitable  acknowledgment.  This 
letter  decided  the  matter  and  Mr.  Lyall  was  created 
K.C.B. 

Sir  Alfred's  artistic  temperament  was  responsible 
for  his  restlessness  and  little  discontents,  he  being  one 
of  the  most  highly  cultured  and  imaginative  of  men  I 
met  in  India.  Always  striving  after  something,  he 
knew  not  quite  what,  a  discontent  or  shall  I  say  dis- 
satisfaction with  himself  and  his  work,  combined  with 
a  distinct  knowledge  of  his  own  power,  was  the  cause 
of  that  peculiar  slackness  and  depression  so  often 
noticeable  in  connection  with  brilliant  brains.  Their 
minds  soar  to  heights  from  which  their  bodies  and  the 
conditions  of  life  hold  them  back,  for  which  words 
have  not  yet  been  coined,  which  in  expression  give 
peace  to  the  soul. 

He  prophesied  what  has  come  true,  namely,  that 
the  civilisation  we  have  been  at  such  pains  to  instil 
into  the  people  of  India  has  not  been  an  unmixed 
blessing  to  them,  having  resulted,  as  he  said  it  would, 
in  the  higher  classes  leaving  their  own  country  for 
Paris  and  London,  where  they  find  pleasure  and  spend 
money.  Nevertheless  he  was  distinctly  in  sympathy 
with  the  natives. 

Asiatics  look  like  simple  trusting  children  and  we 
all  begin  our  lives  in  India  feeling  rather  sorry  for  the 
natives,  and  think  perhaps  they  should  be  allowed 
some  sort  of  self-government,  but  after  a  while  change 
our  minds  as  we  see  what  a  long  time  it  must  be  before 


i64     MEMORIES  DISCREET  AND  INDISCREET 

they  would  reap  any  benefit  either  for  themselves  or 
for  others. 

Lord  Tennyson  thought  some  of  Sir  Alfred's  verses 
charming,  and  congratulated  him  on  them,  but  the 
author  of  them  thought  they  were  only  fit  for  a  maga- 
zine. He  was  a  dreamer  and  loved  his  books.  Lady 
Lyall  was  one  of  the  most  unselfish  women  I  ever 
met.  With  gratitude  I  remember  her  goodness  to  me 
in  India. 

In  those  days  it  was  a  terrible  thing  to  be  ill  out 
there,  as  there  were  no  proper  nurses  to  be  had. 
Soldiers'  wives  were  pressed  into  the  service,  and  I  was 
unlucky  in  those  sent  to  me.  One  not  only  helped 
herself  to  many  of  my  belongings,  but  had  an  insatiable 
appetite.  My  bearer  would  stagger  into  the  woman's 
room,  next  to  mine,  with  a  tray  laden  with  fish,  curry, 
eggs,  toast,  and  little  what-nots.  When  the  decks 
were  cleared,  she  came  in  to  me  bursting  and  breath- 
less, saying  she  was  not  a  good  breakfast  eater,  but 
she  had  managed  to  "  bolt  an  egg."  The  doctors  also 
were  a  holy  terror.  I  was  much  impressed  with  some 
on  board  ship  with  me  on  one  of  my  voyages.  They 
were  en  route  for  Alexandria  after  the  bombardment, 
and  the  senior  officer  boasted  to  me  one  evening  that 
he  had  not  opened  a  medical  book  for  twelve  years, 
and  laughed  at  having  to  begin  again  with  such  work 
as  lay  before  him.  I  was  so  horrified  at  his  callousness 
I  for  the  moment  forgot  Talleyrand's  advice  that 
speech  was  meant  as  a  cloak  for  one's  real  feelings, 
and  retorted,  ''  I  would  be  ashamed  to  say  so  if  I 
were  you  !  " 


CHAPTER  XI 

SIR   DONALD    STEWART 

An  Indian  Hot  Weather — Brain-fever  Birds — Hunting  the  Jackal — 
In  the  Hospitals — Church  Services  under  Punkahs — A  Sunset 
Procession — Sir  Donald  Stewart — Carries  His  Own  Tail — Lady 
Stewart's  Adventures — Young  Sir  Donald — In  America — Sells 
Ducks  and  Chickens — As  Police  Officer — Commissioner  in  Kumassi 
— Sir  Claude  de  Crespigny  Stays  with  Him — Captain  Sir  Donald 
Stewart's  Death. 

OUR  day  minds  and  our  night  minds  are  quite 
different  things,  that  is  the  conclusion  I 
came  to  during  my  first  hot  weather  in  India. 
Happenings  of  the  day  that  have  troubled  us  not  at 
all  assume  gigantic  proportions  at  night,  while  things 
that  have  troubled  us  during  the  day  become  intoler- 
able during  a  sleepless  night,  when  that  blessed 
spiritual  regeneration  of  sleep  is  denied  us. 

The  hot  weather  takes  a  fiendish  delight  in  making 
us  sleepy  but  refusing  us  sleep.  '*  The  night  time  of  the 
Body  is  the  day  time  of  the  soul,"  when  we  can  sleep, 
for  then  we  pass  into  another  world  and  leave  our 
earthly  bodies  for  a  tiny  space — a  veil  is  drawn  over 
our  sorrows  and  pains,  giving  us  strength  to  bear  our 
burdens. 

An  Indian  day  is  full  and  varied,  providing  much 
food  for  thought  during  sleepless  nights  when  an  iron 
band  seems  to  be  tightening  and  tightening  round  our 
heads,  and  the  brain-fever  bird  outside  mocks  us  with 
its  ascending  vocal  scale  until  it  reaches  the  harsh, 
shrill  top  note  of  its  ambition  and  then  begins  again. 
I  have  been  told  that  when  this  bird  reaches  the 
desired  high  note  it  falls  backwards  off  its  perch,  but 
this  must  surely  be  a  traveller's  tale.  I  wish  they  did 
fall  off  their  perch,  they  might  then  be  a  little  longer 
before  starting  the  same  wearisome  notes  over  and 

165 


i66     MEMORIES  DISCREET  AND  INDISCREET 

over  again.  You  determine  you  will  not  listen,  but 
find  yourself  waiting  for  each  note  and  following  the 
unmusical  cadences.  The  days  seem  packed  with 
tragedy  and  comedy  treading  quickly  on  each  other's 
heels,  each  day  seemingly  alike  yet  all  so  different. 
The  following  account  of  one  day  out  of  my  life  in  the 
land  of  regrets  is  typical  of  many.  It  was  during  the 
cold  weather,  and  I  had  unfortunately  acquired  the 
habit  of  sleeplessness,  a  legacy  from  the  long  hot 
nights,  and  was  thankful  when  in  the  grey  dawn  I 
heard  the  far-away  cry  in  the  City  of  Lucknow  calling 
the  faithful  to  prayer.  This  was  followed  quickly  by 
the  bearer  bringing  my  early  tea,  after  which  I  hurried 
into  my  habit  and  rode  away  some  three  miles  to  a 
meet  of  the  newly  imported  fox-hounds,  who  still 
suffered  a  little  from  the  indignity  of  being  requested 
to  hunt  jackal.  During  these  early  morning  gallops 
I  could  never  bring  myself  to  ride  regardless  over  the 
Indian  crops.  It  seemed  to  me  so  selfish  of  men  and 
women  only  seeking  sport  and  pleasure  to  ride  ruth- 
lessly over  the  land  where  some  poor  patient  natives 
had  toiled  single-handed,  with  one  miserable  tool  or 
hand  instrument,  to  render  fruitful  their  plots  of  land 
close  to  their  village  homes.  This  they  did  by  the 
construction  of  endless  little  irrigation  tunnels  over 
which  it  was  impossible  to  ride  without  making 
leakages  and  trampling  down  the  young  grain.  The 
difference  between  the  way  riders  have  to  respect  the 
farmers'  crops  in  English  hunting  countries,  and  the 
way  they  gallop  over  Indian  fields  with  utter  callous- 
ness is  a  matter  the  authorities  in  India  might  well 
bestir  themselves  to  put  down. 

About  8  o'clock  the  sun  became  too  hot  for  pleasure 
or  scent,  and  I  returned  to  bathe,  dress  and  breakfast. 
My  good  man  having  returned  from  his  work  and 
parade  we  were  able  to  breakfast  together,  after  which 
I  interviewed  the  khandsama  (cook),  reduced  the 
total  of  his  previous  day's  supposed  expenditure  on  his 
catering  by  about  half,  which  left  him  a  good  margin 
of  profit  and  with  which  he  always  appeared  content. 


SIR  DONALD  STEWART  167 

I  was  then  at  liberty  to  walk  across  to  the  regimental 
hospitals  under  the  protection  of  a  big  sun  umbrella, 
dirt  colour  outside  and  green  within. 

The  sick  men,  women  and  children  look  forward  to 
a  visit  and  I  always  made  a  point  of  putting  on  some 
bright  colours  and  dressing  nicely  for  these  visits, 
knowing  how  a  touch  of  colour  and  a  dainty  toilet 
benefit  the  patients ;  they  feel  worlds  better  and 
brighter  after  a  visit  from  someone  in  gay  garments 
rather  than  in  dull  or  black,  although  they  may  not  be 
able  to  locate  exactly  the  reason.  I  have  experienced 
the  feeling  when  I  have  been  ill  so  know  all  about  it. 

After  an  hour  or  two  in  those  hospitals  I  have  often 
seen,  heard  and  felt  enough  to  fill  a  three-volumed 
novel  and  still  have  some  material  to  spare.  On  the 
day  that  is  present  in  my  mind,  I  entered  the  large, 
bare,  lonesome-looking  barrack  building  bearing  the 
dignified  title  of  Women's  Hospital.  The  beds  stood 
in  rows,  backs  to  the  wall,  with  a  small  rough  table 
beside  each.  The  windows  were  high  up  in  the  walls 
so  that  no  patient  could  see  out. 

The  first  bed  I  came  to  was  occupied  by  quite  a 
grand  lady,  a  sergeant's  wife  with  rings  on  her  fingers 
and  much  pomatumed  hair,  attired  in  a  gaudy  dressing- 
jacket.  This  invalid  was  sitting  up,  feeling  quite 
perky  and  voluble.  She  at  once  gave  me  to  understand 
hospital  was  no  place  for  her  and  she  was  not  there 
because  she  could  not  afford  to  stay  in  her  own  house, 
or  because  she  was  very  ill,  but  because  the  regiment 
had  a  silly  rule  obliging  all  who  were  ill  or  about  to 
increase  the  population  being  removed  to  this  place ; 
no  one  was  allowed  to  be  ill  in  quarters.  Of  course 
she  had  brought  her  own  servant  with  her,  the  ayah 
had  in  fact  just  finished  dressing  her  hair.  The 
hospital  food  she  could  not  touch,  but  her  husband 
sent  nice  things  over  to  her  every  day.  It  may  appear 
as  if  this  patient  would  not  want  to  be  visited,  yet  her 
pleasure  was  plainly  visible,  she  loved  explaining 
about  her  exalted  position  and  showing  off  her  pretty 
things.     I  explained  to  her  a  new  pattern  for  knitting 


i68     MEMORIES  DISCREET  AND  INDISCREET 

her  baby's  socks  and,  leaving  her  quite  happy,  moved  on 
to  the  next  bed  where  lay  what  had  once  been  a  girl ; 
she  was  now  sixteen  years  of  age  and  had  been  married 
twelve  months  to  a  private  in  the  regiment,  her  father 
being  in  the  Artillery  at  the  other  side  of  the  station. 
Girls  mature  quickly  in  India.  This  child  had  pre- 
sented her  husband  with  twins  the  day  before  my 
visit,  the  poor  little  miseries  were  being  washed  by  a 
kindly  soldier's  wife  in  a  tin  basin  resting  on  the  stone 
carpetless  floor  at  her  feet  close  to  the  mother's  bed. 
I  looked  from  the  bed  to  the  babies  and  back  from 
the  babies  to  the  bed.  Who  would  go  first  ?  The  poor 
blue  pinched  wee  humanities  wailing  piteously,  or 
the  little  mother  crying  silent  tears  in  her  weakness 
at  being  unable  to  do  anything  for  her  long-looked-for 
treasures  whose  plaintive  cries  tortured  her.  Here 
was  one  of  those  cases  that  always  troubled  me. 
I  could  not  sit  by  her  and  utter  words  of  deception 
and  promise  of  speedy  recovery,  it  would  have  been 
too  cruel ;  neither  did  I  like  to  talk  to  her  of  the  Great 
White  Day  that  was  to  be  hers  so  soon,  for  she  gave 
me  no  opening,  never  asking  if  I  thought  she  was 
going  to  get  better  as  many  do  when  very  ill,  or 
enquiring  what  I  thought  of  her  babies.  So  while 
feeling  a  horrid  moral  coward,  knowing  she  had  not 
long  to  live  and  wondering  if  she  realised  it,  I  spoke  of 
the  cold  draughty  room  so  unsuitable  for  the  toilet  of 
newly  born  infants,  and  promised  to  send  a  stove  by 
which  their  little  bodies  and  clothes  could  be  warmed. 
As  I  left  the  hospital  after  visiting  a  variety  of  other 
patients,  I  turned  to  look  once  more  at  the  child-wife ; 
her  eyes  were  fixed  upon  me.  I  smiled  back  at  her  and 
I  thought  I  saw  the  faintest  flicker  of  a  smile  in  return. 
Then  came  the  men's  hospital.  Here  some  were 
well  enough  to  be  amused  and  cheered  by  the  latest 
news  from  outside,  how  the  adjutant's  horse  had  run 
away  with  him  on  parade,  the  latest  pranks  of  our 
pet  monkey,  etc.  They  in  turn  told  me  funny  tales 
which  I  treasured  up  in  my  memory  to  recount  to 
other  sick  soldiers  another  day. 


SIR  DONALD  STEWART  169 

During  my  journey  down  the  hospital  from  bed  to 
bed  I  was  quite  as  often  entertained  by  my  friends  as 
they  were  by  me.  I  reserved  my  last  visit  for  a  bed 
at  the  end  of  a  building,  where  I  knew  I  should  find  a 
very  sick  man.  He  had  been  in  that  quiet  corner  for 
many  days,  but  would  not  be  there  much  longer. 
I  asked  him  if  he  would  not  be  glad  when  all  his 
weariness,  pains  and  disappointments  were  over.  He 
replied,  **  I  should  like  to  have  lived  a  little  longer.'' 
Many  have  expressed  that  same  wish  to  me  when  they 
have  been  dying  and  I  have  wondered  not  once  but 
many  times  that  it  should  be  so.  In  a  weak  subdued 
voice  he  talked  of  the  old  folk  at  home.  He  feared 
they  would  ''  greet  "  when  he  was  gone.  I  took  his 
hand  between  mine  and  held  it  while  we  spoke  of 
things  seen  and  unseen,  then  I  gently  stroked  back  his 
hair  from  off  his  cold  damp  forehead.  I  have  known 
this  simple  little  act  bring  untold  comfort  to  many 
lonely  men  and  women  far  from  all  who  love  them, 
waiting  on  the  shore  for  the  good  ship  Redemption. 

One  rough  diamond  with  tears  in  his  eyes  told  me 
he  felt  ''  less  lonely  and  nervous  like  "  after  my  taking 
his  hand,  it  reminded  him  of  home  and  mother  ;  and 
what  a  simple  little  thing — the  human  touch  to  ease 
the  passing  of  a  soul.  I  glanced  at  the  card  hanging 
above  the  sick  man's  bed  on  which  was  inscribed  his 
name,  his  medicine  and  the  food  allowed  him.  Milk 
and  boiled  chicken  were  mentioned  as  desirable 
nourishing  dainties.  The  patient  dozed,  so  glancing 
round  my  eyes  travelled  to  the  small  table  by  the  bed 
on  which  various  things  had  been  spilt.  A  tumbler 
had  some  milk  in  the  bottom,  various  previous  allow- 
ances had  left  dried  rings  inside  the  glass,  and  tear- 
stains  outside.  On  an  enamel  plate  sprawled  the 
grey-blue  leg  of  a  boiled  chicken,  no  attempt  had  been 
made  to  press  it  into  comely  form,  it  lay  as  though  in 
protest  against  its  unshapely  nakedness  and  lack'  of 
modest  white  drapery.  Small  wonder  it  remained  on 
the  plate  unheeded  until  thrown  outside  by  the 
hospital  orderly  for  the  crows  to  quarrel  over. 


170     MEMORIES  DISCREET  AND  INDISCREET 

I  returned  to  our  bungalow  to  write  the  letters  I  had 
promised  to  send  for  my  sick  friends  of  the  morning, 
and  to  dress  for  a  luncheon-party  we  were  giving. 
Another  dress  and  another  smile  were  necessary  now, 
all  sad  thoughts  must  be  banished,  I  must  be  bright, 
laugh,  joke  and  take  part  in  the  would-be  gaiety  with 
which  we  deceive  and  lull  ourselves  into  thinking  we 
are  happy  and  have  an  abiding  city  in  the  best  of  all 
possible  worlds.  At  luncheon,  riddles  are  asked, 
scandals  related,  if  you  will  allow  them  at  your  table, 
meetings  arranged,  dances  promised  to  partners  at 
coming  balls,  which,  by  the  way,  is  a  most  repre- 
hensible practice  in  the  East,  it  being  by  no  means 
uncommon  for  a  woman  to  enter  a  ballroom  with  her 
programme  full,  which  is  not  quite  fair  in  a  land  where 
men  predominate. 

Our  luncheon  lasted  a  long  time,  after  which  more 
people  came  to  call.  I  talked  platitudes  for  an  hour 
or  more,  gave  them  tea  and  coffee.  And  at  sunset  the 
cosmopolitan  crowd  buzzed  off  to  watch  polo,  listen 
to  the  band,  or  read  the  papers  in  the  Chatter  Manzil, 
once  the  King  of  Oudh's  palace,  now  a  club  and 
general  rendezvous.  All  were  gone,  and  I  was  alone 
once  more.  A  tempting  chair  in  the  verandah  made  me 
rest  awhile  and  dream  a  tiny  dream  or  two,  when 
suddenly  I  was  roused  from  my  reverie  by  the  ''  Dead 
March  in  Saul ''  and  the  usual  evening  procession 
coming  down  the  Mall  from  the  Church,  headed  by  a 
gun-carriage  covered  with  the  Union  Jack  on  which 
lay  a  feather  bonnet  and  sword. 

The  music  ceased  suddenly,  and  I  was  glad,  then  the 
the  sad,  sad  wail  of  the  pipes  broke  upon  the  stillness  of 
the  coming  night,  and  I  wanted  to  run  away  somewhere, 
far  from  everybody  and  everything  and  spend  the  rest 
of  my  life  in  prayer  for  the  souls  of  those  lonely  bodies 
borne  in  this  long  procession.  After  the  pipers  came 
another  and  yet  another  gun-carriage  bearing  its 
silent  draped  freight,  followed  by  a  charger  being  led 
with  empty  saddle  and  long  boots  reversed  in  the 
stirrups,  then  the  bomb,  bomb  of  the  ''  March  in  Saul " 


SIR  DONALD  STEWART  171 

again  began  its  requiem.  At  last  all  have  passed  on 
their  way  to  the  cemetery  with  high  walls  so  that  no 
jackal  may  wander  into  God's  Acre  and  disturb  the 
sleepers. 

Once  when  I  was  very  ill  in  bed  for  some  time,  from 
a  horse  having  rolled  over  me  during  my  sojourn  in 
Lucknow,  I  used  to  dread  that  sunset  procession.  The 
cholera  was  rampant  at  one  time  and  the  processions 
seemed  unending.  Try  as  we  may  to  keep  from 
thinking  in  India  we  cannot  escape  from  our  thoughts 
during  sleepless  nights  when  all  our  doubts  and  fears 
descend  upon  us  in  a  magnified  form  and  we  have  to 
hold  tight  on  to  our  faith  lest  we  lose  it  altogether  and 
abandon  ourselves  to  fatalism. 

After  the  funeral  processions  on  the  day  I  am 
endeavouring  to  describe,  I  drove  down  to  the  club 
with  my  husband  to  read  the  papers  and  talk  to  my 
friends.  I  gazed  in  wonder  at  the  leafless  cotton  trees 
beside  the  Mall,  yesterday  brown  and  bare,  to-day  a 
blaze  of  short-lived  scarlet  flowers,  something  between 
a  water-lily  and  a  large  convolvulus,  the  ground  a 
crimson  carpet  of  fallen  blossoms.  A  dinner-party  and 
a  dance  brought  this  day  to  an  end.  Some  of  the  same 
band  who  played  the  solemn  march  in  the  afternoon 
made  merry  music  to  which  we  danced.  Then  came 
bed  and  prayers  for  sleep  and  oblivion  for  a  space. 

I  wrote  to  Calcutta  for  a  portable  oil-stove  for  the 
comfort  of  the  hospital  patients,  but  it  arrived  too 
late  to  benefit  the  twins  or  their  mother,  for  they 
joined  the  sad  procession  at  sundown  the  following 
evening. 

That  stove  was  the  occasion  of  harsh  words  between 
myself  and  the  chief  medical  officer,  for  he  turned  it 
out  of  the  hospital  on  to  the  verandah,  saying,  if  I 
made  *'  the  hospital  too  comfortable  it  would  always 
be  full,''  so  on  the  verandah  it  remained  for  some  time 
until  one  day  a  bad  case  which  interested  the  profes- 
sion arrived  in  hospital,  and  somehow  the  stove  crept 
in  and  there  it  remained. 

During  the  hot  weather  every  movement  was  an 


172     MEMORIES  DISCREET  AND  INDISCREET 

exertion,  but  I  struggled  valiantly  to  church  with  the 
heat  registering  102°  in  the  shade  of  our  verandah. 
To  EngHsh  minds  the  service  was  a  novel  one.  The 
Padre  read  the  lessons  while  fanning  himself  with  a 
palm  leaf,  a  therm-antidote  whirled  and  whizzed 
about  in  a  vain  endeavour  to  keep  us  cool.  A  per- 
spiring crowd  of  men  chiefly  from  the  loth  Hussars 
acted  as  choir  and  finding  voice  in  spite  of  the  heat. 
The  Padre  in  the  pulpit  with  his  medals  and  Victoria 
Cross  pinned  on  outside  his  surplice.  Unprotestingly 
we  watched  the  toads  and  frogs  lop  up  the  aisle  to  the 
damp  near  the  therm-antidote,  the  punkahs  swinging 
backwards  and  forwards  unceasingly.  The  loth 
Hussars  sat  on  the  opposite  side  of  the  aisle  to  the 
Seaforths,  and  when  we  all  stood  up  to  sing  hymns  it 
amused  me  in  a  languid  sort  of  way  to  watch  some  of 
the  tall  men  like  Lord  Airlie,  Colonel  Wood  and 
Captain  Brabazon  having  their  hair  swept  backwards 
and  forwards  by  the  flapping  of  the  punkahs.  How  it 
must  have  worried  them,  for  I  think  they  all  prided 
themselves  on  their  smart  and  well-groomed  appear- 
ance. 

Colonel  West  Ridgeway,  Under-Secretary  to  the 
Government  of  India  about  this  time,  and  his  wife 
were  enjoying  the  beautiful  climate  of  the  hills, 
moving  from  Calcutta  to  Simla  with  the  Viceregal 
party.  They  had  very  kindly  asked  me  to  stay  with 
them  for  a  while  to  escape  the  rest  of  the  hot  weather. 
My  husband,  who  could  only  get  short  leave,  preferred 
going  to  Naini  Tal,  being  nearer  for  him  than  journey- 
ing to  Simla. 

It  was  very  blessed  to  breathe  fresh  air  again  and 
there  were  a  goodly  crowd  of  interesting  people  up 
among  the  rhododendron-clad  hills.  The  Ripons 
had  no  young  people  of  their  own  but  there  were 
generally  a  number  of  friends  staying  with  them. 

The  Commander-in-Chief,  Sir  Donald  Stewart,  his 
wife  and  family  were  bright  and  cheery.  There  was  a 
large  party  of  them,  all  good-looking  and  always  ready 
to  join  in  any  form  of  amusement. 


SIR  DONALD  STEWART  173 

Sir  Donald  was  a  wonderful  instance  of  what  can  be 
done  with  perseverance  and  determination,  minus 
push  and  self-advertisement.  He  said  that  at  the  age 
of  sixteen  he  joined  a  native  regiment  with  nothing 
but  his  pay  and  his  sword,  yet  when  I  first  knew  him, 
he  was  Commander-in-Chief  with  a  family  of  good- 
looking  sons  and  daughters. 

Modesty  was  one  of  his  chief  characteristics,  some 
of  his  friends  thought  him  too  diffident.  Lord  Ripon 
told  me  he  considered  him  one  of  the  most  modest 
and  unselfish  of  men.  How  many  would  have  given 
the  Command  of  the  March  from  Kabul  to  Kanda- 
har to  another  when  in  a  position  and  anxious  to 
undertake  it  themselves  ? 

My  husband  in  his  letters  from  Afghanistan  also  told 
me  it  was  quite  touching  the  way  Sir  Donald  effaced 
his  own  desires  for  the  advancement  of  his  old  friend 
Sir  Frederick  Roberts,  adding,  **  He  has  gone  out  of 
his  way  to  avoid  putting  little  Bobs's  nose  out  of 
joint,''  it  sounds  rather  disrespectful,  but  that  was  the 
way  it  was  described  to  me.  In  the  same  letter  I  am 
told  that  Sir  Donald  knows  how  to  carry  his  own  tail 
and  does  it  very  effectively.  I  gathered  amongst 
other  things  that  there  had  been  a  little  hitch  on  his 
arrival  at  Kabul  in  consequence  of  Lord  Lytton 
having  sent  Mr.  Lepel  Griffin  as  political  agent  to 
Northern  Afghanistan  in  supreme  control  of  the 
political  situation  and  in  direct  communication  with 
the  Viceroy.  This  dual  control  Sir  Donald  con- 
sidered was  neither  wise  nor  consistent  with  his 
dignity,  he  therefore  wrote  firmly  and  in  parliamentary 
language  to  the  Viceroy  explaining  his  views,  and  that 
if  the  arrangement  was  unalterable  he  would  like  to 
be  reUeved  of  his  command.  There  appears  to  have 
been  silence  for  a  time  and  then  Mr.  Griffin  was  told 
that  while  supreme  he  must  of  course  have  the 
approval  of  Sir  Donald  Stewart  on  all  points.  After 
this  all  went  well. 

It  was  the  custom  in  those  days,  and  may  be  still 
for  all  I  know  to  the  contrary,  to  send  a  political 


174     MEMORIES  DISCREET  AND  INDISCREET 

officer  with  every  general  on  a  campaign  in  India.  In 
the  opinion  of  many  people  this  has  led  to  controversy, 
and  in  some  cases  good  work  done  by  the  Army  has 
been  rendered  useless  from  the  interference  of  the 
political  officer.  When  we  go  to  war  with  any  other 
country  we  do  not  send  a  political  officer  with  our 
generals.  For  instance,  when  Lord  Kitchener  went 
to  Khartoum  he  was  not  accompanied  by  a  political ; 
the  practice  seems  to  be  peculiar  to  India. 

When  speaking  to  Captain  Stewart  once  about  his 
father's  career  and  success  in  life,  I  remarked  how  very 
modest,  almost  deprecatory  he  was  about  himself. 
His  son  said,  ''  Yes,  he  is.  Do  you  know  that  when 
he  was  appointed  Commander-in-Chief  (without  having 
been  consulted  about  it,  by  the  way)  he  said  he 
could  not  believe  it,  there  were  so  many  men  better 
qualified  for  so  important  a  post.''  This  interested 
me  and  I  suggested  that  he  was  probably  one  of  the 
very  few  men  in  India  who  did  not  consider  they 
held  all  the  necessary  qualifications  and  were  only 
receiving  their  due  ! 

I  asked  Sir  Donald  if  it  was  true  that  he  was  with 
Lord  Mayo  when  he  was  murdered  on  the  Andaman 
Islands.  *'  Yes,"  he  replied,  ''  I  was  quite  a  young 
man  at  the  time,  and  had  a  strange  feeling,  a  sort  of 
intuition  that  something  was  going  to  happen,  and 
begged  the  Viceroy  to  go  about  with  a  proper  escort, 
but  he  would  take  no  care.  For  this  reason  I  kept  as 
near  him  as  possible,  and  so  it  happened  that  I  was 
close  to  him  when  the  deed  was  done,  but  as  it  all 
occurred  in  a  flash,  there  was  no  chance  of  avert- 
ing it ;  and  I  believe  the  gentleman  intended  to  bag 
me  too,  but  somehow  this  little  surprise  mis- 
carried." 

Many  people  have  told  me  they  thought  Sir  Donald 
gruff  and  bad-mannered  :  he  certainly  was  very  out- 
spoken and  at  times  looked  rather  fierce ;  this  idea  was 
conveyed  by  his  bright  eyes  shining  from  under 
bristling  and  shaggy  eyebrows,  like  untidy  little 
haystacks.     In  reality  he   was  kind-hearted,   full   of 


SIR  DONALD  STEWART  175 

humour  and  of  a  bright,  happy  nature,  which  made  him 
loved  by  all  his  family. 

It  was  he  who  inaugurated  that  happy  plan  and 
habit  of  never  seeing  anybody  he  passed  on  the  Mall 
at  Simla.  In  small  hill  stations  it  is  most  fatiguing 
for  big  officials  like  Viceroys  and  Commanders-in-Chief 
to  be  obliged  to  bow  and  scrape  to  everybody  they 
meet,  one  perpetual  taking  off  of  their  hats,  and  he 
thought  it  would  be  a  saving  of  trouble  for  everybody 
concerned  if  he  sailed  along  and  saw  nobody.  At  first 
this  caused  surprise  and  some  heart-burnings.  People 
did  not  like  being  passed  by  and  no  notice  taken  of 
them  any  more  than  if  they  had  been  little  dogs 
wagging  their  tails,  but  they  soon  learned  to  be 
grateful  to  him,  understanding  the  common  sense  of 
the  idea. 

When  Sir  Donald  was  appointed  Governor  of  the 
Royal  Hospital,  Chelsea,  after  the  death  of  Sir  Patrick 
Grant,  I  asked  Lady  Stewart  if  she  was  pleased,  and  if 
she  liked  the  idea.  The  reply  was  *'  No  !  Everybody 
dies  when  they  go  there/'  It  was  difficult  to  find  a 
cheering  and  suitable  reply  as  it  is  true  that  nobody 
goes  there  until  the  end  of  their  days,  so  to  speak,  this 
being  the  last  compliment  paid  them  in  their  lifetime. 

Lady  Stewart  and  I  were  comparing  notes  one  day 
as  to  who  had  experienced  the  most  adventures  in  our 
lives.  I  maintained  I  had  and  so  did  she.  At  first 
certainly  hers  were  the  most  thrilling  and  her  last 
experience  threw  some  of  mine  into  the  shade,  but 
mine  made  a  bigger  total. 

Among  the  chief  of  Lady  Stewart's  adventures  was 
one  day  early  in  her  married  life,  her  palanquin  bearers 
put  her  down  and  ran  away  leaving  her  in  the  road, 
which  is  exactly  what  happened  to  me  once,  only  in 
my  case  no  smart  young  man  came  to  my  rescue. 
Lady  Stewart  was  more  fortunate,  a  kind  and 
chivalrous  youth,  who  happened  to  be  passing  in  a 
carriage  or  buggy,  immediately  he  saw  her  plight  got 
out  and  placed  the  vehicle  at  her  disposal,  continuing 
on   foot   himself.     It   turned   out   to   be   Lieutenant 


176     MEMORIES  DISCREET  AND  INDISCREET 

Roberts,  late  Lord  Roberts,  who,  after  this  meeting, 
became  a  lifelong  friend  of  the  Stewarts. 

Another  of  my  friend's  adventures  happened  when 
she  was  on  her  way  home  to  England  with  some  of  her 
young  family,  in  the  days  when  travelling  was  most 
primitive.  Several  hundreds  of  miles  had  to  be 
traversed  in  an  open  boat  down  a  river  full  of  rapids 
and  dangerous  rocks.  They  had  the  misfortune  to  be 
wrecked,  and  when  rescued  the  mattresses,  children 
and,  I  believe.  Lady  Stewart — then  Mrs.  Stewart — were 
all  floating  about  in  the  barge,  boat,  or  whatever  the 
thing  was.  This  sort  of  experiences  is  all  very  well 
when  alone  and  nobody  to  think  of  but  oneself,  but 
with  small  children  it  becomes  quite  another  story, 
most  terrifying  and  nerve-shattering. 

But  the  most  alarming  of  all  her  mishaps  was 
reserved  for  after  her  return  to  England.  When 
on  her  way  from  Scotland,  where  they  had  been 
renting  a  shooting  at  Tarland  in  Aberdeenshire,  Lady 
Stewart  and  her  daughter,  Lady  Jenner,  left  the  North 
by  the  Scotch  Express  on  the  night  of  October  the 
31st,  1892,  I  think.  All  went  well  and  both  were 
sleeping  when  towards  morning,  on  nearing  Thirsk  in 
Yorkshire,  they  ran  into  a  heavily  laden  goods  train. 
The  collision  was  so  violent  that  the  front  part  of  the 
express  was  completely  wrecked,  throwing  the  line 
into  dreadful  confusion.  The  sleeping-car  occupied  by 
Lady  Stewart  and  her  daughter  was  completely 
telescoped  by  the  carriage  ahead,  tearing  one  side  of 
the  coach  bodily  out  and  flinging  poor  Lady  Stewart, 
mattress  and  all,  on  to  the  line,  while  her  daughter  on 
the  other  side  remained  untouched.  It  was  marvellous 
that  my  dear  old  friend  was  not  killed  from  shock 
alone ;  her  spine  and  one  leg  were  a  good  deal  hurt,  but 
with  her  usual  pluck  she  made  light  of  it  and  con- 
tinued her  journey  home  the  same  day,  though  feeling 
very  ill,  and  had  to  remain  in  bed  for  weeks,  never 
really  making  a  complete  recovery.  I  was  sitting  by 
her  bedside  one  afternoon  and  asked  her  about  the 
accident,  but  she  could  not  bear  to  talk  of  it. 


SIR  DONALD  STEWART  177 

Sir  Claude  de  Crespigny,  speaking  of  Lady  Stewart 
not  long  ago,  pleased  me  by  saying  he  considered  her 
undoubtedly  one  of  the  most  charming  old  ladies  of 
her  time,  with  which  I  entirely  agree.  I  always 
remember  with  affection  her  many  kindnesses  to  me, 
and  regret  she  is  no  longer  with  us. 

The  Stewarts  had  a  number  of  lifelong  friends, 
which  is  not  surprising;  they  were  a  most  attrac- 
tive family  with  their  unpretentiousness  and  sim- 
plicity. 

The  two  Sir  Donalds  in  this  family  were  rather 
confusing.  Lady  Stewart's  husband,  of  whom  I  have 
been  writing,  was  Field-Marshal  Sir  Donald  Stewart, 
Bt.,  and  his  son  was  Sir  Donald  Stewart,  k.c.m.g.  ;  the 
latter  being  a  brother-officer  of  my  husband's  in  the 
92nd  Highlanders,  and  was  wounded  at  the  Battle  of 
Kandahar  the  same  day  as  my  man,  both  being  in 
hospital  together.  **  Donny,"  as  we  all  called  him, 
was  a  great,  handsome  fellow  and  very  strong.  I  have 
heard  it  remarked  that  he  was  one  of  the  strongest 
men  in  the  army  ;  he  stood  about  6  feet  2  inches,  was 
well  set  up  and  broad.  Being  popular  and  having  a 
large  heart  and  love  for  his  fellow-creatures  as  well 
as  sport,  his  finances  were  often  a  little  strained.  His 
father  helped  him  once  or  twice,  till  at  last  ''  Donny  " 
came  to  the  conclusion  the  best  thing  he  could  do  was 
to  leave  the  service.  He  had  been  acting  A.D.C.  to 
his  father  when  Commander-in-Chief  before  they  left 
India. 

I  think  he  then  went  to  America  and  for  a  time  I 
lost  sight  of  him,  at  any  rate  after  a  while  a  letter  came 
from  America  telling  me  he  was  selling  chickens  off 
a  barrow  in  New  York.  A  friend  of  mine  met  him 
outside  one  of  the  big  hotels  there  with  a  handcart 
laden  with  ducks  and  chickens.  I  tried  to  picture 
dear,  beautiful,  smart  Donny  selling  his  wares ; 
it  was  amusing  but  incredible,  especially  as  I  am  told 
he  stood  by  his  barrow  in  a  battered  silk  hat,  flannel 
trousers  and  frock-coat,  without  which  peculiar  kit 
no  one  could  hope  to  do  any  business  ;  as  he  amusingly 


178     MEMORIES  DISCREET  AND  INDISCREET 

explained,  he  would  have  been  regarded  as  no  class  at 
all  amongst  the  other  vendors.  Donny's  devoted 
mother  used  her  influence  with  Lord  Roberts  on  her 
son's  behalf  and  in  consequence  he  was  appointed 
to  the  Police  in  West  Africa,  becoming  political 
officer  to  the  Ashanti  Expedition,  and  at  the  time  of 
his  death  from  fever  in  1905  was  Commissioner  and 
Commander-in-Chief  of  the  East  African  Protectorate. 
He  practically  died  at  the  beginning  of  his  career. 
There  was  no  doubt  he  had  considerable  ability,  and 
had  he  lived  would  surely  have  made  his  mark.  He 
carried  with  him  through  his  short  life  the  same 
happy  cheerful  spirit  that  had  made  so  many  friends 
for  his  father.  As  a  subaltern  in  the  92nd  Highlanders, 
as  A.D.C.  to  his  father,  poultry-farmer,  political 
officer.  Commissioner  and  Commander-in-Chief  of  the 
East  African  Protectorate,  he  was  hard-working, 
straightforward  and  always  ready  with  a  friendly 
hand  to  help  anyone  in  trouble.  Nothing  could  ex- 
ceed his  generosity  and  hospitality.  Sir  Claude  de 
Crespigny  had  been  staying  in  Kumassi  with  him  for 
some  time  before  he  died. 

Sir  Donald,  as  my  friend  had  now  become  on  being 
appointed  Chief  of  the  East  African  Protectorate,  had 
been  ill  for  some  little  time  from  fever  and  a  chill 
brought  on  by  standing  in  water  when  shooting. 
Had  not  the  doctors  said  he  was  going  on  quite 
well  Sir  Claude  would  never  have  left  him,  and 
he  was  greatly  grieved  and  shocked  on  reaching 
home  to  receive  a  cable  saying  poor  Donny  was 
dead. 

Several  times  I  have  been  told  that  Sir  Donald  was 
one  of  the  best,  indeed  some  have  said  the  best  Com- 
missioner East  Africa  has  ever  seen. 

There  is  a  medallion  at  Kumassi,  let  into  the 
wall  of  the  post  office,  that  is  a  most  excellent  like- 
ness of  him,  and  Sir  Claude  de  Crespigny  caused 
a  memorial  brass  to  be  placed  in  the  crypt  of 
St.  Paul's  to  the  memory  of  his  old  friend,  on  which 
is  inscribed  : 


SIR  DONALD  STEWART  179 

CAPTAIN  SIR  DONALD  WILLIAM  STEWART,  K.C.M.G., 

GORDON    HIGHLANDERS 

SON  OF    FIELD-MARSHAL   SIR   DONALD    STEWART,   BART. 

SERVED   IN   THE   AFGHAN   WAR,    1879-80. 

SEVERELY   WOUNDED. 
TRANSVAAL   WAR,    1881.      SOUDAN,    1884-5. 

BRITISH   RESIDENT  AT   KUMASSI, 
COMMISSIONER  AND   COMMANDER-IN-CHIEF, 
BRITISH   EAST   AFRICA. 
BORN    i860,    DIED    IN   SERVICE   AT   NAIROBI,    I905. 

This  memorial  is  quite  near  the  marble  placed  in 
the  crypt  to  the  memory  of  his  father,  the  Field- 
Marshal,  and  near  that  of  Nelson,  and  Charles  Reade, 
the  novelist. 

When  Lord  Roberts  unveiled  the  memorial  to  Field- 
Marshal  Sir  Donald  Stewart,  a  pick-pocket  during  the 
ceremony  took  the  opportunity  to  annex  a  gold 
presentation  watch  from  young  Sir  Donald.  I  have 
heard  that  the  latter  was  the  only  man  to  have  all 
three  bronze  stars,  Roberts,  Ashanti  and  Khedive's. 


CHAPTER  XII 

OFF   TO   EGYPT 

My  Young  Brother  as  War  Correspondent — The  Great  Savile  Lumley — 
Off  to  Cairo —  Landing  at  Ismailia — I  Sit  Amongst  Horses'  Buckets 
and  Hay — Donkey  Ride  with  a  General — Shepheard's  Hotel — Lord 
.  Hay  of  Kinfauns — Colonel  George  Harvey  and  His  Wife — General 
Valentine  Baker — His  Daughter — Wounded  at  El  Teb — The  loth 
Hussars  off  to  the  Front  Salute  Their  Old  Colonel. 

A  FRIEND  asked  me  long  ago  which  of  all  the 
countries  I  have  been  in  I  liked  the  best. 
There  was  no  occasion  for  me  to  pause  and 
think,  even  for  a  moment,  for  Egypt,  that  land  of 
mystery  and  mighty  dead,  holds  me  in  thrall.  Egypt 
and  Rome  have  atmospheres  entirely  their  own, 
romance  of  the  past  and  present-day  civilisation 
intermingled,  something  that  appeals  profoundly  to 
us,  that  defies  speech.  In  Egypt  especially  we  seem  to 
feel  that  we  are  near  some  great  hidden  truths,  some 
soulful  discoveries,  but  cannot  get  near  enough  for 
touch,  though  in  the  twilight,  when  all  is  bathed  in 
orange  and  gold,  we  sometimes  creep  very  close. 

One  of  my  most  thrilling  visits  to  Egypt  was  in 
1885,  just  after  poor  Gordon  was  done  to  death  at 
Khartoum.  My  youngest  brother  was  very  anxious 
to  see  some  of  the  stirring  events,  some  of  the  great 
battles  taking  place  in  the  Soudan,  but  not  being  a 
soldier  did  not  know  how  it  could  be  done.  He  and  I 
put  our  heads  together,  and  I  suggested  possibly  it 
might  be  worked  if  we  could  get  him  on  to  some  paper 
as  correspondent.  He  jumped  at  the  idea.  I  there- 
fore wrote  a  little  note  to  my  kind  friend  Mr.  Augustus 
Savile  Lumley,  the  great  Savile  who  always  helped 
everybody  and  did  not  fail  me.  Within  twenty-four 
hours  my  brother  had  in  his  pocket  the  magic  card 

180 


OFF  TO  EGYPT  i8i 

that  would  act  as  a  passport  anywhere,  but  before 
going  on  our  journey  to  Egypt  I  must  acknowledge 
my  indebtedness  to  my  friend,  and  have  a  little  parley 
about  him,  for  he  was  a  great  character.  His  name 
was  a  thing  to  conjure  with,  and  not  to  know  this 
popular  person  was  to  label  oneself  unknown.  When 
I  first  met  him  he  was  past  the  first  heyday  of  his 
youth,  and  was  struggling  manfully  to  keep  his  figure 
in  symmetrical  proportions  with  the  rather  severe 
restrictions  of  Dame  Corset. 

When  first  I  married  nobody  thought  their  ball 
could  be  a  success  without  him  ;  he  was  the  cotillion 
leader  of  the  Victorian  Era.  People  with  daughters 
to  introduce  eagerly  sought  his  help.  If  he  assisted 
them  their  efforts  were  generally  crowned  with  suc- 
cess, without  it,  the  people  wasted  their  time  and 
money  ;  entertainers  scrambled  for  his  help,  anybody 
fortunate  enough  to  attract  his  attention  was  made  at 
once,  for  he  knew  the  game  from  A  to  Z,  and  thoroughly 
enjoyed  it  too.    Nothing  bored  him. 

I  regarded  him  as  one  of  the  best  of  the  butterflies 
of  that  period.  He  was  the  hero  of  many  strange  tales, 
and  also  had  many  to  relate  of  other  folk.  He  knew 
all  the  gossip  from  Court  to  kitchen  and  has  amused 
me  by  the  hour,  yet  never  did  I  hear  him  repeat  an 
unkind  story  or  tell  one  in  an  unkind  way,  though  he 
managed  to  relate  endless  amusing  anecdotes  of  people 
and  things.  I  liked  him  for  four  reasons  :  first,  for 
his  good-natured,  kindly  chatter  ;  secondly,  for  the 
amount  of  trouble  he  would  take  to  help  those  who 
sought  his  aid  ;  thirdly,  for  the  faultlessness  of  his 
attire  ;  and  last,  though  by  no  means  least,  for  his 
refined  and  ever  dainty  mode  of  speech ;  his  manners 
were  most  courtly  at  all  times. 

He  told  me  a  stern  parent  had  put  him  in  the  Army 
when  a  youth,  although  it  was  not  the  profession  of 
his  choice.  In  many  ways  the  role  of  Guardsman 
must  have  suited  him  admirably,  but  while  an  ex- 
tremely good-tempered  man,  he  was  very  determined, 
and  when  he  held  views  not  altogether  in  sympathy 


i82     MEMORIES  DISCREET  AND  INDISCREET 

with  his  colonel,  was  not  inclined  to  give  way.  There- 
fore after  a  while  he  left  the  service  and  the  First  Life 
Guards  saw  him  no  more.  He  went  abroad  to  study 
art  and  languages.  While  thus  improving  his  educa- 
tion in  Italy  he  was  thrust  into  prison,  being  taken  for 
a  Prussian  spy. 

He  had  a  distinct  leaning  towards  art,  and  before 
the  end  of  his  reign  painted  a  picture  that  was 
hung  in  the  Academy.  Perhaps  what  he  loved  best 
was  painting  portraits  of  pretty  ladies.  I  thought 
the  ladies  rather  liked  it  too.  He  certainly  had  a 
large  field  from  which  to  make  his  selections  of 
beauties. 

Those  who  could  count  themselves  his  friends  were 
lucky.  He  was  loyal  and  would  put  himself  to  great 
inconvenience  without  a  murmur  to  help  those  he 
cared  for,  be  they  man,  woman  or  child.  He  was  on 
intimate  terms  with  kings,  emperors,  artists,  actors, 
and  society  with  a  very  big  ''  S,''  Napoleon  the  Third, 
Metternich,  the  Empress  of  Russia,  and  other  notable 
people. 

At  one  time  I  believe  he  went  into  the  City,  which 
always  sounds  so  mysterious  and  often  is,  though  it  is 
now  quite  the  fashionable  thing  to  do. 

I  wondered  latterly  how  he  could  nip  about  so 
nimbly  on  the  lightest  of  toes  with  such  a  wonderful 
waist.  I  have  heard  he  used  to  go  long  walking  tours, 
perhaps  that  was  when  his  figure  had  other  propor- 
tions. 

He  remained  a  bachelor  to  the  end  of  his  days, 
dying  at  the  early  age  of  58  in  1887.  Many  will,  I 
think,  agree  with  me  that  he  died  much  too  soon, 
being  one  of  those  kindly,  bright  people  who  radiate 
some  of  their  joy  of  life  on  those  around  them. 

Now  I  must  place  my  other  memories  of  this  good 
old  friend  somewhere  for  safety,  and  where  I  can  find 
them  again,  and  go  on  to  Egypt  with  my  brother 
Percy.  He  was  anxious  I  should  go  with  him,  partly 
because  the  doctors  wished  me  to  be  in  a  warm  dry 
climate  during  the  cold  early  spring  months,  and  partly 


OFF  TO  EGYPT  183 

because  I  knew  so  many  of  the  people  out  there  taking 
part  in  the  Soudan  Campaign. 

Haste  was  my  brother's  primary  object,  so  hurriedly 
throwing  some  garments  into  a  dress-basket,  I  de- 
clared myself  ready  to  start.  As  we  drove  to  the 
station  black-edged  English  papers  were  being 
sold  in  the  streets  in  mourning  for  poor  betrayed 
Gordon,  whose  death  was  that  day  announced.  The 
whole  country  had  been  in  suspense  for  some  weeks, 
wondering  if  the  splendid  fanatic  would  be  able  to 
hold  out  until  help  reached  him.  He  had  been  be- 
sieged five  months,  and  we  all  knew  the  chances  were 
against  him,  but  we  hoped,  until  it  was  no  use  hoping 
any  longer. 

We  sailed  in  a  P.  &  O.,  and  hearing  that  some 
horses,  hay  and  provisions  were  going  to  be  moved 
from  our  steamer  into  barges  in  the  Suez  Canal  and 
then  landed  at  Ismailia,  my  brother  asked  the  captain 
if  he  would  allow  us  to  be  landed  at  the  same  time, 
so  as  to  save  days  more  travelling.  He  very  kindly 
gave  his  consent,  but  told  me  he  feared  I  should  find 
it  very  rough  work.  Near  Lake  Timsah  we  anchored 
in  a  siding  cut  in  the  bank  of  the  Canal,  and  the  horses 
were  lowered  by  a  crane  into  the  barges ;  poor  things, 
it  was  no  use  protesting,  and  they  must  have  felt 
horribly  sick  and  frightened.  I  began  to  wonder  if 
that  treatment  would  be  apphed  to  me.  I  watched 
with  much  interest  the  horses  being  packed  close 
together  in  rows  in  the  barges  and  the  huge  blocks  of 
hay  being  stowed  away,  wondering  where  I  should  be 
expected  to  sit  or  stand,  for  indeed  there  seemed  no 
room  anywhere.  I  was  determined  I  would  not  ask 
any  questions  for  fear  it  might  be  thought  I  was  grum- 
bling or  ungrateful  when  the  skipper  had  made  the 
arrangement  for  us  to  go  with  these  loads.  The  last 
three  horses  were  being  swung  out  over  the  barge 
standing  longside,  when  orders  were  given  for  the 
gangway  and  ladder  to  be  let  down  for  me.  I  felt 
relieved,  and  after  many  expressions  of  regret  at  part- 
ing, and  thanks  for  kindnesses  had  been  exchanged 


i84     MEMORIES  DISCREET  AND  INDISCREET 

between  us,  the  skipper  and  other  passengers,  I 
descended  and  found  a  bucket  turned  upside  down 
had  been  placed  for  me  to  sit  upon.  I  was  painfully 
near  the  heels  of  some  of  my  four-footed  companions, 
but  they  were  packed  too  tight  to  be  able  to  do  much 
harm.  I  observed  with  much  more  dismay  the  nearness 
of  the  water,  which  in  such  a  heavily  laden  barge  was 
fairly  lapping  the  gunwale  or  whatever  they  call  the 
edge  of  a  barge,  but  I  hoped  for  the  best. 

We  were  already  in  touch  with  matters  of  moment 
and  interest  that  my  brother  could  write  about  for 
his  paper.  I  made  mental  notes,  keeping  one  eye  on 
the  nearness  of  the  water  and  the  other  on  a  big  black 
horse  towering  above  me  as  I  sat  on  my  bucket  turned 
almost  under  his  body. 

Horses  are  generally  friendly  with  me,  and  I  soon 
ceased  to  be  anxious,  little  knowing  what  was  in  store 
for  me.  On  arrival  at  Ismailia  a  large  place  had  been 
roped  in  where  we  were  to  land.  I  naturally  wished 
to  efface  myself  as  much  as  possible  so  as  to  give  no 
trouble  or  take  up  anybody's  valuable  time,  so  re- 
mained quietly  on  my  bucket  while  the  horses  were 
all  turned  loose  and  the  bales  of  hay,  buckets  and 
harness  tied  together  in  huge  bundles  were  in  turn 
thrown  ashore.  Horses  are,  as  a  rule,  anxious  to  do 
all  that  is  required  of  them  if  they  only  know  what 
our  pleasure  may  be,  but  when  one  man  gives  them 
a  spank  behind  urging  them  to  get  out  of  the  way, 
another  puts  his  fist  in  their  faces  for  being  too  push- 
ing, and  when  clattering  buckets  are  thrown  in  heaps 
on  the  ground  close  to  their  heads  or  heels,  or  occasion- 
ally on  top  of  their  backs,  it  is  small  wonder  they 
become  bewildered  and  wild. 

I  shall  never  forget  that  landing.  I  should  probably 
have  been  killed  by  any  other  animals,  but  horses  and 
I  are  good  friends.  My  brother  was  anxious  to  tear  off 
to  catch  General  Arbuthnot,  who  he  heard  was  start- 
ing away  up-country  at  once.  I  told  him  to  go  on  by 
all  means,  I  would  follow  with  the  horses  and  the  hay. 
A  transport  officer,  perspiring  and  unshaven,  khaki- 


OFF  TO  EGYPT  185 

coloured  from  face  to  boots,  informed  me  there  was  a 
little  inn  on  the  place  where  everybody  was  staying 
and  I  had  better  make  my  way  there,  warning  me  I 
should  find  it  a  weary  tramp  in  the  sand.  It  was  no 
use  grunting,  there  being  no  alternative. 

I  suggested  that  though  I  could  not  lift  large  trusses 
of  hay  I  could  certainly  put  some  halters  on  the  horses 
and  could  lead  some  of  them,  if  by  so  doing  I  should  be 
any  help.  I  led  the  procession  with  my  big  black 
friend  whom  I  had  conversed  with  on  the  barge.  He 
made  no  sort  of  protest,  and  most  of  the  rest  followed 
him  meekly.  Some  of  the  poor  beasties  were  looking 
rather  sadly.  I  think  they  had  suffered  on  the  voyage, 
and  the  swinging  on  board  the  barges  must  have  made 
them  feel  sick.  Horses,  I  know,  suffer  much  from  sea- 
sickness, and  are  denied  the  relief  permitted  to  human 
beings. 

When  we  reached  the  little  inn  I  found  my  brother 
there.  He  had  seen  the  General,  and  had  been  told 
none  of  us  could  go  on  until  the  next  morning,  that  the 
place  was  cram  full  of  soldiers  and  more  expected  that 
night,  and  there  was  no  chance  of  a  bed  for  me,  and 
not  much  prospect  of  any  food.  He  also  added  there 
was  not  another  woman  on  the  place  but  myself,  with 
the  exception  of  the  proprietor's  wife,  who  was  French. 

Being  most  anxious  not  to  take  either  food  or  accom- 
modation required  by  the  hard-worked  and  tired 
soldiers,  I  told  my  brother  to  try  and  get  me  a  few 
biscuits  or  something  to  keep  my  body  and  soul 
together  arid  I  would  sleep  outside  under  the  little 
verandah.  It  was  evening  and  I  walked  round  the 
little  hut,  for  it  was  not  much  more.  I  saw  through  an 
open  door  the  General  and  some  officers  of  sorts  sitting 
at  a  long  wooden  trestle  table  in  a  small  parlour,  only 
large  enough  to  seat  twelve  people  tightly  packed. 
It  was  quite  a  squeeze  for  the  men  to  get  to  and  from 
their  places.  As  soon  as  one  had  finished  he  got  up 
and  went  away,  when  his  seat  was  immediately  filled 
again  by  someone  else  who  had  been  waiting  for  his 
turn  to  feed.    I  observed  the  wooden  and  canvas  paper- 


i86     MEMORIES  DISCREET  AND  INDISCREET 

covered  walls  or  partitions  bulging  as  they  squeezed 
up  and  down. 

All  were  gobbling  away  as  if  life  depended  on  every- 
thing being  eaten  up  in  five  minutes.  There  was  no 
cloth  on  the  narrow  table  formed  of  planks  on  trestles, 
in  the  middle  stood  a  tin  basin  answering  for  a  soup 
tureen.  I  did  not  see  very  clearly  what  was  inside  it, 
but  it  looked  as  though  it  might  have  been  second 
cousin  to  the  English  Irish  stew.  All  the  hungry,  tired- 
looking  men  had  their  eyes  glued  on  their  plates ;  while 
feeding  themselves  with  spoons  in  their  right  hands, 
their  left  groped  about  the  middle  of  the  table  for  a 
loaf  that  was  being  passed  up  and  down,  from  which 
each  helped  themselves  in  turn.  I  wandered  on  and 
found  my  brother  helping  to  water  the  horses.  He 
had  captured  some  biscuits  for  me  and  a  drink  of 
water.  I  think  they  must  have  been  dog  biscuits. 
They  were  very  hard,  and  had  queer-looking  odds  and 
ends  inside  ;  in  one  I  found  a  tin-tack. 

Presently  the  landlady  came  with  profuse  apologies 
and  regrets  at  my  discomfort,  assuring  me  that  at  any 
other  time  the  best  of  everything  should  have  been 
placed  at  my  disposal,  but  now,  well  now  she  had  not 
enough  for  the  poor  soldiers,  and  there  was  nowhere 
for  me  to  sleep,  unless  I  would  condescend  to  occupy 
the  bed  usually  used  by  herself  and  her  husband.  I 
told  her  I  could  not  dream  of  doing  that,  but  was  at 
length  persuaded,  as  she  said  she  would  have  no  time 
to  go  to  bed.  Various  kindly  offers  were  made  of 
rigging  me  up  a  tent,  but  I  would  not  hear  of  it,  every- 
body had  quite  enough  to  do  without  bothering 
about  me. 

Having  no  luggage  with  me  I  gladly  accepted  my 
landlady's  offer  of  some  sleeping  garments,  and  how 
thankful  I  was  to  get  off  my  shoes  that  were  full  of 
sand,  but  I  did  not  reap  much  benefit  from  this  as  the 
floor  was  sanded. 

Although  very  tired  I  could  not  sleep  much.  The 
horses  tethered  outside  were  restless  and  soldiers 
tramped  about  nearly  all  night.    At  the  first  streak  of 


OFF  TO  EGYPT  187 

dawn  I  looked  out  of  my  window,  which  was  a  very 
small  square  like  those  seen  at  times  in  attics,  only  in 
this  case  near  the  ground.  I  wished  to  see  who  were 
the  musicians  with  such  unmusical  snores.  I  found 
rows  of  soldiers  lying  asleep  close  under  my  window, 
in  all  their  kit,  just  as  I  had  seen  them  when  watering 
the  horses  the  evening  before.  I  hoped  so  much  they 
had  found  something  to  eat.  As  it  grew  lighter  I 
observed  a  black  rim  round  the  skirt  of  my  rohe  de  nuit. 
On  examination  I  found  it  composed  of  fleas,  real 
ballet  dancers,  full  of  agility.  Fortunately  they  do 
not  like  me,  so  I  was  not  as  annoyed  with  them  as  I 
should  otherwise  have  been. 

My  hard-worked  and  harassed  landlady  brought 
me  a  cup  of  tea  and  piece  of  bread  and  jam,  which  I 
enjoyed  in  my  room.  Before  long  my  brother  came 
to  say  would  I  go  with  him  to  see  the  camels  branded, 
as  he  wished  to  make  some  notes.  I  expressed  myself 
as  delighted  to  go  with  him  if  only  I  could  get  a  basin 
and  some  water  wherewith  to  wash.  He  laughed  at 
me,  saying  nobody  had  washed,  and  I  must  do  as 
others  did,  so  I  went  with  him  unwashed,  wondering 
what  my  landlady  usually  did,  as  there  was  no  sign 
in  her  bedroom  of  anything  in  the  nature  of  cleansing 
paraphernalia. 

The  camels  were  being  branded  in  an  enclosed  place 
with  high  walls  and  big  wooden  gates.  It  was  not  a 
pleasant  sight,  and  I  found  the  smell  of  camels  and 
native  drivers  overpowering  on  top  of  a  dinnerless 
night  and  breakfast  less  morning.  I  told  my  brother 
I  would  wait  outside  the  walls  for  him,  and  turned  to 
carry  out  my  intention,  when  I  saw  a  camel  wiggle  its 
neck  round  like  an  india-rubber  tube  and,  with  one 
sideways  sort  of  chew,  take  the  top  of  a  man's  head  off. 
I  suppose  matters  were  more  or  less  balanced  now  the 
camel  had  been  branded  and  did  not  like  it,  and  the 
driver  had  been  branded  and  did  not  like  it,  at  least 
if  he  knew  anything  about  it  he  would  not  have  liked 
it.  I  was  feeling  so  sick  and  ill  I  began  to  think  I  was 
going  to  make  an  exhibition  of  myself  by  fainting,  but 


i88     MEMORIES  DISCREET  AND  INDISCREET 

managed  to  stumble  outside  the  gates  and  there  sat 
down  under  the  shade  of  a  few  trees  close  to  the  en- 
closure to  await  my  brother. 

On  returning  to  our  hotel,  shall  I  call  it  ?  I  was  met 
by  General  Arbuthnot,  who  informed  me  it  was  time 
for  us  to  go  to  the  station,  which  was  some  little  dis- 
tance from  our  head-quarters,  and  he  had  engaged  a 
donkey  for  me  to  ride  and  one  for  himself.  He  hoped 
I  did  not  mind,  but  there  was  no  saddle,  and  unless  I 
rode  or  walked  I  should  not  reach  the  station,  there 
being  no  other  means  of  transit.  Had  I  been  in  riding 
kit  I  should  not  have  minded  how  I  rode,  but  was 
hardly  prepared  to  ride  astride  in  skirts  and  their 
usual  accompaniments  in  the  face  of  hundreds  of  men 
watching  the  proceedings.  Being  determined  to  make 
no  fuss  I  said  it  would  be  all  right.  My  brother  gave 
me  a  leg  up  and  I  started  sitting  sideways,  balancing 
myself  on  the  razor-blade  back  of  my  little  white  moke. 
We  went  away  in  great  style.  Presently  the  General, 
who  was  also  saddleless,  said,  ''  If  you  are  all  right  we 
will  push  on,"  and  without  waiting  for  answer  he 
bouffed  off  at  a  brisk  canter,  developing  into  a  gallop  ; 
he  wore  spurs.  My  donkey  of  course  followed  suit, 
but  I  did  not,  for  after  falling  first  on  its  neck  and  then 
recovering  myself,  I  fell  off  head  first  on  the  off  side 
into  the  sand,  and  relieved  of  its  burden  the  donkey 
did  a  sprint  all  on  its  own  and  disappeared  in  the 
direction  taken  by  the  General. 

I  picked  myself  up,  spat  out  a  little  sand  that  had 
found  its  way  into  my  mouth,  shook  some  out  of  my 
hair  and  shoes,  making  up  my  mind  to  endure  what 
had  gone  down  the  back  of  my  neck.  I  now  proceeded 
to  follow  my  donkey's  footsteps,  but  had  not  gone  far 
when  to  my  relief  I  saw  coming  towards  me  General 
Arbuthnot  riding  his  donkey  and  leading  mine.  He 
was  full  of  concern  until  he  saw  I  was  laughing.  Then 
he  explained  to  me  his  dismay  when  on  arriving  at 
the  station  and  dismounting  to  come  and  help  me  to  do 
the  same  he  found  my  donkey  without  its  rider.  We 
both  laughed  heartily,  and  I  told  him  I  should  cer- 


OFF  TO  EGYPT  189 

tainly  ride  astride  now  and  so  prevent  a  repetition  of 
my  ignominy.  This  I  proceeded  to  do,  and  confess  it 
was  not  graceful,  but  nobody  seemed  the  least  sur- 
prised or  shocked. 

I  feared  after  this  delay  we  might  miss  our  train. 
I  was  going  to  Cairo  and  my  newly  found  friend  to 
Suakim  ;  but  we  were  now  informed  there  had  been 
some  delay  and  the  train  for  Suakim  would  not  be  in 
for  probably  an  hour  or  more,  and  the  one  for  Cairo 
would  be  even  later.  The  General  had  so  exhausted 
himself  with  anxiety  and  fuss  that  he  sank  down  on 
to  a  narrow  Httle  bench  in  what  answered  for  ticket 
office,  waiting-room,  luggage  and  telegraph  office,  and 
fell  asleep  still  wrapped  up  in  his  green  gauze  veil, 
blue  goggles,  and  endless  little  contrivances  hanging 
from  him  in  all  directions  which  he  had  explained  to  me 
were  going  to  be  a  boon  and  blessing  to  him  in  the  near 
future.  There  were  field-glasses,  spoons,  knives  and 
forks  all  growing  on  one  stalk,  a  drinking-cup  that  did 
conjuring  tricks,  was  a  looking-glass  one  moment  and 
a  something  else  the  next.  They  all  looked  forlorn 
and  degage  now  hanging  about  the  sleeping  figure  with 
his  sun  helmet  sitting  jauntily  on  one  side  of  his  head. 
I  wondered  he  did  not  lie  on  the  ground  and  rest  him- 
self instead  of  endeavouring  to  balance  on  a  narrow 
bench,  but  perhaps  that  would  have  been  infra  dig. 
for  a  full-blown  general.  His  slumbers  did  not  last 
long.  First  one  and  then  another  soldier  of  sorts  came 
to  ask  questions  and  have  things  signed.  At  last  his 
train  came  in  and  I  saw  him  steam  away  to  do  or  die. 
I  never  met  him  again,  and  do  not  even  know  who  he 
was  beyond  the  fact  that  he  had  a  most  charming 
manner  and  gentle  persuasive  voice,  absolutely  devoid 
of  any  of  the  knock-you-down,  thigh-slapping,  feet- 
wide-apart,  bullying  manner  so  repulsive  in  some  of 
those  I  have  seen  in  high  places,  not  of  course  to  their 
equals  but  to  the  men.  I  observed  General  Arbuthnot 
once  or  twice  speaking  to  young  officers  and  men ;  he 
was  dignified,  reserved  in  manner,  yet  gentle  and 
pleasant. 


igo     MEMORIES  DISCREET  AND  INDISCREET 

My  brother  and  I  went  on  to  Cairo  and  Shepheard's 
Hotel.  We  had  wired  for  rooms,  and  Monsieur  Louigi 
did  his  best  to  make  us  comfortable.  I  wish  all  hotels 
had  such  obliging  managers.  The  place  was  crammed 
with  officers  and  some  of  their  wives  come  to  see  them 
off,  as  well  as  a  goodly  number  of  visitors  there  for 
the  winter  and  their  health. 

I  had  not  been  five  minutes  on  the  steps  of  the  hotel 
before  I  met  a  number  of  men  I  knew,  all  in  a  violent 
hurry  and  full  of  business,  for  train -loads  of  troops 
were  being  despatched  daily  to  the  different  fronts. 
Fortunately  one  of  the  first  I  met  was  General  Sir 
George  Greaves,  whom  I  had  known  in  India,  and  he 
took  my  brother  under  his  wing,  promising  to  give 
him  all  the  information  that  circumstances  permitted. 

Cairo  was  peculiarly  interesting  at  that  time.  Every 
other  person  we  met  was  taking  some  active  part  in 
those  stirring  times.  At  dinner  the  first  evening,  in 
the  large  dining-room  with  every  corner  packed,  I 
observed  many  faces  I  knew.  As  we  were  leaving  the 
room,  someone  caught  hold  of  my  brother,  saying, 
''  Hullo,  what  are  you  doing  here  ?  "  On  turning  to 
see  who  was  speaking  I  found  our  old  friend,  Fitzroy 
Hay,  at  that  time  Lord  Hay  of  Kinfauns,  of  the 
Egyptian  gendarmerie,  but  formerly  in  the  Black 
Watch. 

My  brother  replied,  *'  I  am  here  as  correspondent 
for  one  of  the  London  papers.''  ''Oh,  are  you?'' 
replied  Lord  Hay.  '*  I  am  here  as  co-respondent !  " 
This  amused  us,  as  a  short  time  before  our  arrival  he 
had  run  away  with  somebody's  wife,  and  she  was,  I 
believe,  somewhere  in  the  vicinity  at  the  time. 

We  saw  a  good  deal  of  this  old  friend  when  in  Cairo. 
He  kindly  sent  his  piano  into  our  room  to  amuse  us. 
He  was  wearing  the  uniform  of  the  Egyptian  Gendar- 
merie, which  was  to  him  most  unbecoming.  The  only 
person  I  ever  saw  in  a  tarboosh  who  looked  well  in  it 
was  Lord  Kitchener.  It  made  Lord  Hay  look  quite 
plain,  whereas  he  was  really  good-looking.  It  is  the 
national  Egyptian  and  Turkish  head-dress,  and  nothing 


OFF  TO  EGYPT  191 

I  should  have  thought  could  have  been  more  unsuit- 
able, affording  no  sort  of  protection  to  the  head  from 
the  sun. 

I  remarked  on  this  once  to  Lord  Kitchener,  and  he 
told  me  the  reason  it  is  adopted  by  Mussulmans,  is 
because  it  allows  them  to  touch  the  ground  with  their 
foreheads  in  prayer,  which  is  part  of  their  ritual. 
Any  head-dress  with  a  brim  would  interfere  with  this 
practice. 

By  the  way,  it  was  in  Egypt  I  first  met  Lord  Kit- 
chener, but  I  must  write  of  him  in  another  chapter, 
there  being  so  much  that  was  arresting  in  his  character, 
manners  and  ways. 

I  have  to  thank  Egypt  for  many  good  friends. 
When  I  was  left  alone  in  the  hotel  after  my  brother 
had  gone  on  with  General  Greaves  and  the  troops. 
Colonel  George  Harvey  and  his  handsome  wife  (nee 
Craigie-Halkett)  took  pity  on  me  and  asked  me  to 
stay  with  them  in  their  bungalow  at  Ghezireh,  a  little 
way  outside  Cairo,  where  their  hospitality  was  un- 
bounded, and  I  was  glad  a  little  later  to  be  able  to 
return  it  by  lending  them  my  house  in  town  for  the 
arrival  of  the  first  little  Harvey.  Colonel  Harvey  was 
in  the  Black  Watch  and  present  at  the  battles  of  Tel- 
el-Kebir  and  El  Teb,  where  his  brave  deeds  won  him 
special  mention,  and  the  picture  papers  portrayed  him 
doing  gallant  deeds.  When  he  married  he  left  the 
army  and  joined  Valentine  Baker's  Egyptian  Police. 
He  it  was  who  raised  ''  Harvey's  Blacks."  He  com- 
manded the  Sudanese  Gendarmerie,  and  is  now  Com- 
mandant of  Police,  bearing  the  title  of  Harvey  Pasha 
at  Alexandria. 

Their  bungalow  at  Ghezireh  was  most  artistic.  The 
drawing-room,  which  was  large  and  lofty,  had  a  hand- 
painted  dado  of  great  depth  running  all  round  the 
room,  depicting  sporting  scenes,  from  the  brush  of  some 
artist.  Many  pleasant  evenings  have  I  spent  in  that 
room,  both  my  host  and  hostess  being  adepts  in  the 
art  of  entertaining.  It  was  during  this  visit  that  I 
drove  with  Mrs.  Harvey  to  call  on  General  Valentine 


192     MEMORIES  DISCREET  AND  INDISCREET 

Baker  and  his  little  daughter.  It  was  soon  after  the 
death  of  his  wife  and  eldest  girl  from  typhoid  fever. 
They  died  at  Shepheard's  Hotel.  It  nearly  broke  his 
heart,  for  during  all  his  troubles  when  he  left  the 
loth  Hussars,  his  wife  had  been  loyal  and  would  listen 
to  no  word  against  him,  cheering  him  and  showing  the 
world  no  scandal  shook  her  faith  in  her  husband. 

I  had  not  seen  General  Baker  since  the  early  days 
of  m}^  marriage,  and  was  hardly  prepared  for  the 
change  I  found  in  him.  It  was  evening  in  the  short 
twilight  when  we  were  shown  by  a  silent-footed 
Egyptian  manservant  into  a  large  dim  room.  The 
General  did  not  hear  us  as  we  entered.  He  was  walk- 
ing up  and  down,  his  hands  behind  his  back,  leaning 
forward  with  chin  on  chest,  the  whole  attitude  of  this 
big  man  one  of  dejection,  while  his  one  remaining 
child,  a  little  fair-haired  daughter  in  short  skirts  and 
hair  down  her  back,  was  sitting  on  a  music-stool  before 
a  sweet-toned  piano  playing  from  memory  some  of 
Mendelssohn's  little  songs  without  words,  which  I 
think  should  be  called  prayers  without  words.  Poor 
lonely  motherless  bairn,  truly  a  tragic  little  figure,  with 
large  blue  unhappy  eyes,  and  a  literally  tear-stained 
face.  She  saw  us  first  and  stopped  playing.  This 
attracted  her  father's  attention,  and  he  came  forward 
to  greet  us,  with  his  sad  gentle  voice.  Could  this  be 
the  same  Valentine  Baker  I  had  known  in  England, 
patron  of  the  Prince  of  Wales'  Theatre,  and  dashing 
cavalry  commander,  with  bright  eye  and  alert  manner  ? 
His  experiences  had  indeed  left  a  mark. 

Lady  Evelyn  Baring,  Mrs.  Harvey  and  others  tried 
hard  to  comfort  the  little  Sybil,  and  have  her  with  them 
as  much  as  possible,  but  it  was  painful  to  see  the  child  ; 
she  was  always  with  tears  in  her  eyes  and  heart. 

I  thought  my  husband  might  like  to  be  in  the 
Egyptian  Police  as  the  climate  suited  me.  Both 
General  Baker  and  Colonel  Harvey  tried  to  arrange 
this,  and  it  was  practically  settled.  General  Baker 
thought  my  husband  might  have  been  his  private 
secretary,  and  I  would  have  looked  after  his  house 


OFF  TO  EGYPT  193 

and  chaperoned  his  daughter,  but  at  the  last  moment 
a  change  of  plans  frustrated  this  nice  arrangement,  and 
the  daughter  went  home  to  a  relative  to  be  looked 
after.  Her  father  did  not  live  long  after  this,  and  she 
then  felt  more  lonely  than  ever,  and  in  the  dangerous 
position  of  a  rich  and  unhappy  orphan.  In  1891  she 
came  to  tell  me  she  was  going  to  marry  Sir  John 
Garden  of  Templemore,  Ireland.  She  died  in  191 1, 
having  had  a  sad  life.  I  do  not  think  she  ever  re- 
covered from  the  shock  of  her  mother's  and  sister's 
death  in  Cairo.    It  quite  upset  her  nerves  and  health. 

General  Valentine  Baker,  or  Baker  Pasha,  as  he  was 
called  latterly,  died  of  angina  pectoris  at  Tel-el-Kebir 
on  November  17th,  1887,  and  was  buried  with  military 
honours  in  the  English  cemetery  at  Cairo.  In  a  de- 
spatch dated  December  5th,  1887,  from  Lord  Salisbury 
to  Sir  Evelyn  Baring,  the  late  Lord  Cromer,  his  lordship 
expressed  the  regret  of  Her  Majesty's  Government  at 
the  news  of  his  death,  acknowledging  the  important 
services  he  had  rendered  to  the  Egyptian  Government. 

I  have  heard  people  who  understand  these  things 
say  his  great  military  abilities  were  wasted  on  the 
command  of  a  civil  force.  They  were  sufficiently 
great  to  have  made  a  most  brilliant  career  in  our 
military  service. 

It  was  with  the  loth  Hussars  under  Colonel  Valen- 
tine Baker  that  the  Prince  of  Wales  (later  King 
Edward  VII)  received  his  first  military  training,  the 
regiment  being  stationed  at  Hounslow,  the  Prince 
and  his  tutor  making  their  home  at  the  White  Lodge, 
Richmond,  meanwhile  ;  for  thirteen  years  Valentine 
Baker  commanded  the  regiment,  becoming  known  as 
**  Baker  of  the  Tenth,"  bringing  it  to  such  a  state  of 
efficiency  that  it  was  the  admiration  of  the  whole 
army. 

Being  a  really  keen  soldier  he  preferred  learning 
from  practical  demonstration  rather  than  from  books  ; 
for  this  reason  he  managed  to  be  present  at  most  of 
the  great  European  campaigns.  He  was  in  the  Austro- 
Prussian  War,   also  as  a  spectator  in  the  German- 


194     MEMORIES  DISCREET  AND  INDISCREET 

Franco  War,  when  for  a  time  he  was  detained  as  a 
German  spy.  Quite  a  number  of  my  friends  and 
relations  appear  to  have  shared  this  experience. 

In  1874  Colonel  Baker  was  appointed  Assistant 
Quartermaster-General  at  Aldershot,  and  he  was  away 
so  much  from  his  regimental  duties  that  the  Duke  of 
Cambridge  spoke  to  him  about  it.  Then  came  the 
great  misfortune  of  his  life.  A  scandal  associated 
with  his  name  and  a  lady's,  obliging  him  to  leave  the 
regiment  he  had  been  instrumental  in  making  so  smart, 
as  the  Queen  had  *'  no  longer  any  use  for  his  services.'' 

There  have  been  various  opinions  about  the  rights 
and  wrongs  of  this  case.  His  wife,  whom  he  had 
married  in  1865,  never  believed  a  word  of  the  scandal, 
remaining  a  faithful  and  devoted  wife  to  him  up  to 
the  day  of  her  death.  The  Prince  of  Wales  also  never 
forsook  his  old  friend. 

After  leaving  the  Tenth  he  decided  to  go  to  the 
Eastern  deserts,  which  had  always  had  a  fascination 
for  him. 

General  Baker  told  me  one  of  the  greatest  disap- 
pointments of  his  life  was  experienced  at  the  first 
battle  of  El  Teb,  when  his  Egyptian  soldiers  either 
threw  down  their  arms  or  surrendered  to  the  Arabs. 

It  was  during  the  second  El  Teb  that  he  was  badly 
wounded  in  the  face  ;  he  carried  a  deep  scar  to  the  end 
of  his  days,  and  I  cannot  imagine  how  he  escaped 
losing  his  eye,  the  bullet  wound  was  so  close  to  it. 

Well  I  remember  the  loth  Hussars  leaving  Lucknow 
when  ordered  to  Egypt,  nearly  all  Lucknow  went  to 
see  them  off  and  bid  them  au  re  voir.  They  were  in 
grand  spirits  and  delighted  they  were  going  to  have  a 
chance  of  fighting.  The  whole  regiment  had  been 
popular,  and  although  I  had  been  informed  they  in- 
dulged in  a  certain  amount  of  cheap  swagger,  I  must 
confess  I  never  saw  any  of  it.  The  story  of  '*  The  Tenth 
don't  dance  "  may  have  been  emblematic  once  in  days 
long  past,  but  they  certainly  not  only  danced  but  made 
themselves  very  agreeable,  joining  in  every  sort  of 
amusement  for  the  moment. 


OFF  TO  EGYPT  195 

Baker  Pasha  did  valuable  work  in  Egypt,  and  was 
much  missed  after  his  death.  I  have  heard  it 
remarked  that  he  was  at  times  rather  a  thorn  in 
the  side  of  some  of  the  military  authorities,  as  he 
held  very  determined  and  pronounced  views  on 
certain  points  from  which  nothing  would  persuade 
him  to  secede,  and  being  in  command  of  the  blackies 
he  was  more  or  less  independent. 

I  find  it  is  not  generally  known  that  General  Baker 
was  offered  reinstatement  in  the  English  Army  but 
declined  it.  Neither  is  it  known,  and  I  have  been  told 
it  is  a  fact,  that  when  Colonel  Wood  was  commanding 
the  Tenth  in  Egypt  and  came  across  his  old  friend 
Baker  of  the  Tenth  he  ordered  the  regiment  to  march 
past  and  invited  their  old  Colonel  to  take  the  salute. 


CHAPTER  XIII 

LORD   KITCHENER 

Egypt — Dinner  at  the  British  Agency — The  Coming  K. — Captain 
Baden-Powell — Prince  Bliicher — Lord  Kitchener — His  Character — 
He  Asks  for  Bucksheesh — And  Gets  It — Lord  Airlie's  Coat-of-arms 
— Lord  Kitchener  Loses  His  Cap — Finds  It  on  a  Subaltern's  Head — 
Lunches  at  the  J.U.S.C. — Meets  a  Friend — An  Afternoon  Call 
— Plays  a  Game  of  Soldiers — Becomes  Frightened — Hides — 
A  Lady  Loses  Her  Chignon — Lord  Kitchener  Finds  It — Gordon's 
Farewell  to  England — Lord  Kitchener  is  Disappointed — His  Death. 

DINING  at  the  British  Agency  in  Cairo  in 
1885  with  Sir  Evelyn  and  Lady  Baring, 
I  found  myself  seated  between  two  most 
interesting  people,  on  my  right  Colonel  Ardagh  (later 
General  Sir  John  Ardagh),  at  that  time  D.A.A.G.and 
Q.M.G.  to  the  expeditionary  force  in  Egypt,  on  my  left 
Prince  Bliicher,  with  whom  I  had  to  air  my  best 
French.  Our  conversation  turned  on  who  would  be 
the  great  men  of  the  future.  Colonel  Ardagh  expressed 
the  opinion  that  Egypt  held  at  that  moment  some 
promising  young  men,  and  he  had  noticed  they  seemed 
to  come  in  waves  and  cycles.  Looking  across  the 
table,  he  attracted  my  attention  to  a  well-set-up, 
good-looking  young  man  absently  engaged  in  making 
bread  pills,  speaking  seldom,  but  attentive  to  all  that 
was  passing  and  looking  very  dour.  I  was  informed 
this  was  ''  young  Kitchener,''  Colonel  Ardagh  adding, 
''  There  is  the  coming  K.  That  man  will  make  a 
mark,  and  so  will  Gerry  Portal.  They  are  both  bound 
to  come  to  the  front.  Another  man  of  whom  I  expect 
great  things  is  Baden-Powell.''  This  forecast  has  all 
come  true,  thereby  proving  Colonel  Ardagh  a  judge  of 
character.  The  Baden-Powell  referred  to  is  the 
present-day  Sir  Robert,  father  of  the  Boy  Scout 
Movement,  one  of  the  most  useful  and  far-reaching 

196 


LORD  KITCHENER  197 

institutions  of  the  age.  Gerry  Portal  I  shall  speak  of 
later.  He  was  in  the  diplomatic  service  and  working 
under  Sir  Evelyn  Baring  (afterwards  Lord  Cromer). 

After  dinner  Captain  Kitchener  was  introduced  to 
me.  We  chatted  like  the  folk  in  The  Hunting  of  the 
Snark,  about  thimbles,  ploughs  and  railway-shares. 
He  was  reserved  and  monosyllabic.  Even  in  those 
early  days  I  felt  he  was  a  lonely  soul,  not  in  the  body, 
but  in  the  spirit.  In  later  years  this  impression 
increased.  There  grew  a  look  in  his  eyes  of  perpetual 
loneliness.  His  personality  was  attractive  yet  in  a 
measure  repellent.  He  held  all  at  arm's  length.  I  think 
I  gathered  my  impressions  and  what  I  wanted  to 
know,  not  so  much  from  what  he  said  as  what  he  did 
not  say.  His  passionless,  cold,  steely-blue  eyes  w^ere 
quite  peculiar,  one  being  rather  different  from  the  other. 
I  used  quite  to  forget  what  I  was  talking  about  while 
studying  which  eye  was  looking  into  mine  and  which 
at  my  hair.  Not  that  I  mean  to  suggest  for  a  moment 
that  he  squinted  or  had  any  sort  of  deformity,  only  that 
his  eyes  were  not  equal,  and  his  massive  brow  shading 
them  gave  him  an  arresting  and  uncommon  appearance. 

He  gave  the  impression  of  being  a  hard  unemotional 
man,  yet  I  do  not  feel  at  all  sure  this  impression  is  a 
correct  one.  He  certainly  was  very  canny,  not  easily 
taken  in  or  likely  to  be  turned  from  his  own  opinion  ; 
still  less  was  he  a  man  to  be  rushed  into  unconsidered 
situations.  Being  a  hard  worker  by  temperament  he 
liked  other  people  to  keep  pace  with  him.  When  they 
failed  in  this  he  was  apt  to  be  intolerant  and  looked 
upon  it  as  shirking.  One  of  his  staff  told  me  nobody 
dare  even  be  ill  who  had  to  work  with  ''  the  Chief  " 
as  they  called  him.  His  passion  for  work  was  one  of  the 
most  interesting  traits  in  his  character,  never  happy 
unless  studying  something  to  assuage  his  thirst  for 
knowledge. 

Field-telegraphy  was  one  of  his  first  studies  in  the 
days  of  its  infancy.  Fortunately  it  did  not  meet  with 
the  same  scorn  that  aircraft  suftered  when  first  intro- 
duced into  this  country.     The   first   great   work   of 


198     MEMORIES  DISCREET  AND  INDISCREET 

Kitchener's  life  was  when  he  was  asked  to  undertake 
some  BibUcal  research  and  exploration  in  Palestine. 
This  was  after  his  own  heart,  an  open-air  life  amongst 
the  people  who  interested  him  more  than  all  others. 

It  was  difficult  to  get  him  to  talk  of  himself, 
his  work  or  experiences,  but  I  found  a  way  of  cir- 
cumventing his  reticence.  I  had  heard  he  saved  the 
life  of  a  friend  working  with  him  in  Palestine,  and 
the  man's  name  was  Condor  ;  so  one  day  I  said  to 
him  while  trying  to  look  very  innocent,  ''  What  a 
wonderful  story  that  is  about  all  those  people  whose 
lives  you  saved  when  on  your  Biblical  research  work, 
one  man's  name  was  Condy,  was  it  not  ?  Any  relation 
to  Condy 's  Fluid  ?  "  At  first  the  poor  man  looked  some- 
what puzzled,  but  when  I  mentioned  the  name  of 
Condy  it  dawned  on  him  what  I  referred  to  and  I 
heard  the  story  at  first  hand,  but  told  in  such  a  modest 
way  I  had  to  do  a  good  deal  of  reading  between  the 
lines.  Speaking  of  Mr.  Condor  he  said,  ''  Yes,  I  was 
once  able  to  lend  him  a  helping  hand  when  he  was  in 
trouble  while  bathing,  and  again  when  the  Moslems 
attacked  and  nearly  throttled  him.  They  objected 
to  our  poking  our  noses  into  their  villages  and  prowl- 
ing about  amongst  their  tombs,  and  chose  an  oppor- 
tunity when  Condor  was  alone  in  his  tent  to  attack 
him.    I  went  to  the  rescue,  and  was  only  just  in  time." 

From  what  I  gathered  the  Moslems  had  the  best  of 
the  argument,  at  first  at  any  rate,  though  they  were 
made  to  pay  for  it  afterwards  ;  as  both  Kitchener  and 
Condor  were  rather  badly  hurt.  I  think  it  was  on  this 
same  occasion  that  the  former  had  to  run  for  his  life 
from  a  furious  and  pursuing  Sheik  who  he  said  had 
legs  as  long  as  his  own  and  an  infinitely  better  wind  ! 

It  was  not  given  to  everybody  to  see  Lord  Kitchener 
in  his  lighter  moments,  yet  he  enjoyed  a  joke,  as  the 
following  will  show.  A  relation  of  mine  was  with  him 
in  Egypt  in  1885,  when  he  reached  30  Mile  Hill  to 
meet  the  returning  columns  under  Red  vers  Buller. 
A  Greek  merchant  anxious  to  capture  some  trade 
before  the  troops  reached  Korti,  went  out  with  boxes 


LORD  KITCHENER  199 

and  bales  containing  many  varieties  of  everyday- 
requisites  for  sale.  After  making  a  number  of 
purchases  for  the  mess,  Kitchener  addressed  the 
merchant,  saying,  *'  I  think  you  now  ought  to  give  me 
some  bucksheesh  (present)  after  buying  all  these 
things,*'  speaking  jokingly  of  the  native  habit  of 
always  asking  for  bucksheesh.  The  Greek  merchant, 
taking  it  seriously,  presented  Kitchener  with  a  pot 
of  apple-jelly  for  which  he  could  find  no  purchaser. 
Kitchener  was  more  pleased  with  that  than  all  the 
other  newly  acquired  possessions. 

This  story  reminds  me  of  another  in  connection  with 
the  same  Greek  merchant  during  that  identical  visit 
to  the  troops.  The  relation  to  whom  I  have  already 
referred  bought  a  small  looking-glass  as  an  aid  to 
shaving  off  some  of  the  overgrowth  of  the  campaign. 
Lord  Airlie  of  the  loth  Hussars  going  into  his  tent 
picked  it  up,  examining  himself  carefully  and  critically 
from  right  to  left  for  some  moments,  then  addressing 
himself,  said,  ''  Well,  David,  haven't  seen  you  for  some 
time  now,  had  quite  forgotten  what  an  ugly  beggar 
you  are.''  I  can  well  imagine  Lord  Airlie 's  feelings 
when  he  beheld  in  the  glass  his  scrubby  beard,  and  red 
blistered  face  compared  with  the  neat  and  well- 
groomed  reflection  he  had  last  seen.  Poor  "  David," 
as  his  intimate  friends  in  the  regiment  called  him,  died 
at  Diamond  Hill,  Pretoria,  in  1900.  There  could  never 
have  been  any  difliculty  about  identifying  him,  as 
nearly  the  whole  of  the  upper  part  of  his  body  was 
covered  with  his  coat-of-arms  tattooed.  When  I  was 
told  of  this  I  thought  what  a  pity  it  was  such  a  work 
of  art  should  be  hidden  from  view. 

Lord  Airlie  and  I  had  some  great  arguments  in 
Lucknow  about  the  advisability  of  soldiers  marrying. 
He  said  it  was  a  mistake,  that  a  man  lost  interest  in  his 
profession,  and  wives  persuaded  their  men  to  retire 
from  the  Army  just  when  they  were  growing  useful. 
I  did  not  agree  with  him,  and  was  amused  a  little  later 
to  find  he  had  taken  unto  himself  a  wife  while  still  in 
the  service. 


200     MEMORIES  DISCREET  AND  INDISCREET 

Another  story  of  Lord  Kitchener,  this  time  in 
South  Africa.  I  have  forgotten  the  exact  details,  but 
this  was  the  gist  of  it.  I  presume  it  must  have  been  in 
some  mess. 

A  young  and  joyous  subaltern,  seeing  Lord 
Kitchener's  cap,  helmet,  or  whichever  it  may  have 
been,  on  the  table,  its  owner  being  elsewhere,  put  it 
on  his  own  head  and  proceeded  to  amuse  the  rest  of 
the  occupants  of  the  room  or  tent  by  swaggering 
about  pretending  to  be  Kitchener,  all  in  good  part, 
but  of  course  exaggerating  any  little  peculiarities  or 
habits,  his  audience  rocking  with  laughter  at  a 
wigging  being  addressed  to  them  from  the  would-be 
Kitchener.  Meanwhile  the  real  Lord  Kitchener  had 
returned  in  person  to  look  for  his  cap.  Seeing  it  on  the 
head  of  the  cheeky  young  subaltern,  he  quickly  put 
the  cap  belonging  to  the  acting  youth  upon  his  head, 
it  being  some  sizes  too  small  for  the  General,  and 
waited  until  the  pantomime  should  be  over.  Suddenly 
the  laughter  ceased  and  all  the  faces  grew  long,  for  they 
had  discovered  the  smiling  face  of  the  Chief  looking 
at  them  round  the  door  with  a  rakish-looking  cap 
perched  on  one  side  of  his  head.  Could  it  be  possible 
this  was  the  strict  and  rather  alarming  commanding 
officer,  looking  as  if  he  had  been  out  for  the  night  on 
a  spree  ? 

A  brother-officer  who  was  in  the  Engineers  with 
Lord  Kitchener  when  first  he  joined,  writing  a  short 
time  ago  about  him,  said,  *'  He  was  not  regarded  as 
clever  or  forceful  in  character  as  a  young  man  in  my 
batch,  but,  of  course,  developed  later.  ...  A  little 
interview  I  had  with  K.  when  he  was  at  home  on  leave 
from  the  Governorship  of  Suakim  seemed  to  me  to 
reveal  the  development  of  his  character.  I  was 
lunching  at  the  Junior  United  Services  Club  when  he 
came  up  and  shook  hands  with  me.  After  a  time  I 
asked  him  how  he  liked  being  at  home,  something  of 
a  '  lion,'  rather  feted  and  so  forth. 

*'*It  is  pleasant  enough  for  a  time,'  he  replied, 
'  but  to  tell  the  truth  I  like  to  be  in  a  place  where, 


LORD  KITCHENER  201 

when  I  am  called  in  the  morning  my  man  says  to  me, 
''Is  it  your  Highnesses  will  that  the  world  shall  go 
round  as  usual  to-day/'  and  I  reply,  *'  Yes,''  where- 
upon he  says, ''  Your  Highness's  word  shall  be  obeyed," 
and  it  is  so/  K.  said  this  with  a  pleasant  smile  at 
himself/' 

I  once  saw  Lord  Kitchener  look  really  frightened. 
He  had  come  to  call  on  me  one  afternoon  in  town  and 
found  me  in  the  middle  of  a  game  of  soldiers  with 
a  small  son.  We  had  cleared  one  of  the  tables  in  the 
drawing-room,  set  up  many  tin  soldiers,  and  were 
firing  with  cannon  and  peas.  Each  had  large  armies 
and  obligingly  fired  at  one  another  in  turns.  In  the 
midst  of  a  heavy  bombardment  Lord  Kitchener  was 
announced,  he  looked  on  for  a  short  time  and  then 
I  persuaded  him  to  take  my  army  and  fight  my  son. 
He  declared  he  could  not  fight  unless  we  let  him  have 
the  camel  corps  which  had  fallen  to  my  son's  share 
when  we  drew  lots  for  the  soldiers.  We  let  him  have 
them,  and  learnt  a  lesson  in  placing  our  men  so  that 
one  pea  did  not  throw  a  whole  regiment  on  their 
faces. 

It  amused  me  to  watch  this  long-legged  soldier 
shooting  peas  out  of  cannon  at  tin  soldiers  and  looking 
as  if  he  enjoyed  it.  I  suddenly  heard  more  callers 
coming  upstairs ;  my  son  heard  them  at  the  same  time 
and  said,  *'  Oh,  bother,  mother,  there  are  more  people 
coming  to  call,  shall  we  have  to  stop  our  game  ?  " 
Lord  Kitchener  looked  scared  at  being  caught  playing 
soldiers  and  jumped  up  saying  he  must  be  moving  on; 
but  it  was  too  late,  the  handle  of  the  door  rattled  and 
without  more  ado  he  plunged  headlong  into  a  heavy 
velvet  curtain  that  hung  between  the  two  drawing- 
rooms,  making  himself  a  prisoner,  as  there  was  no  door 
out  of  the  far  room  except  through  the  one  we  occupied. 

I  had  the  greatest  difficulty  in  greeting  my  friends 
demurely,  indeed  I  think  I  must  have  had  a  most 
irritating  grin  on  my  visage  most  of  the  time  they 
were  with  me.  When  the  servants  brought  the 
tea  and  went  through  the  curtain  for  the  table  I  was 


202     MEMORIES  DISCREET  AND  INDISCREET 

prepared  for  a  debacle  of  some  sort,  but  all  that  hap- 
pened was  a  sound  as  if  a  hiccup  had  gone  astray  from 
the  butler. 

From  my  son's  face  I  could  plainly  see  he  was  only 
awaiting  a  lull  in  the  conversation  to  ask  why  Lord 
Kitchener  was  hiding,  so  I  chattered  incessantly, 
leaving  no  lull,  and  to  make  it  more  safe  told  my  boy 
to  go  and  have  his  tea  and  then  come  back  and  finish 
the  game.  How  glad  I  was  I  had  taught  him  he  must 
never  interrupt  grown-up  people  when  they  were 
talking. 

After  what  seemed  an  age  my  guests  departed  and 
Lord  Kitchener  emerged,  still  looking  frightened. 
I  asked  him,  amidst  the  laughter  I  was  trying  to 
control,  why  he  had  bolted  ?  He  said  he  did  not  know, 
but  thought  it  must  have  been  because  he  was  so 
upset  at  being  caught  playing  with  soldiers  and  had 
lost  his  head  !  By  degrees  he  recovered  and  joined  in 
my  amusement. 

There  is  another  story  I  promised  faithfully  I  would 
never  give  away,  but  now  as  both  the  men  who  were 
actors  in  the  comedy  are,  alas !  gone,  perhaps  I  may 
not  be  doing  wrong  in  relating  it. 

There  was  a  lady  in  Cairo  who  had  a  great  dislike  to 
Lord  Kitchener,  and  never  lost  an  opportunity  of 
running  him  down.  She  was  under  the  impression  he 
had  tried  to  harm  her  socially  :  he  in  return  had  no 
tender  feelings  towards  her,  indeed  I  have  heard  them 
very  rude  to  one  another. 

On  Sundays  the  English  Church  was  well  attended  by 
all  the  British  Community  in  Cairo.  On  the  particular 
Sunday  of  which  I  am  writing,  Lord  Kitchener  was 
three  pews  ahead  of  me  and  sitting  in  the  end  seat  next 
the  aisle.  Sir  Gerald  Portal  was  one  pew  ahead  and 
sitting  next  the  aisle  also.    The  service  had  just  begun 

when    Mrs.    ,    Lord    Kitchener's    pet    aversion, 

swaggered  up,  all  sails  set.  As  she  passed  where  I  was 
sitting  she  dropped  her  chignon,  but  sailed  on  quite 
unaware  of  her  loss  until  she  sat  down  in  her  pew  and 
put  up  her  hand  to  adjust  her  bonnet,  which  missed 


LORD  KITCHENER  203 

its  support.  Not  finding  all  she  was  accustomed  to, 
both  hands  went  up  to  search  about,  then  scarlet  in  the 
face  she  turned  round  and  glared  at  us  all  as  if  we  had 
robbed  her  of  it.  She  now  arose  from  her  seat,  put 
up  her  parasol  and,  holding  it  over  her  head,  marched 
out  of  church,  looking  right  and  left  as  she  went,  in 
hopes  of  seeing  the  missing  coiffure  :  but  Sir  Gerald 
had  witnessed  its  fall  and  quickly  swept  out  one  of  his 
long  legs,  hitched  it  into  his  pew  and  kicked  it  under 
the  seat  almost  at  my  feet.  As  she  passed  him  going 
out  of  church  he  looked  tenderly  into  her  face  as  much 
as  to  say,  ''I  hope  you  are  not  feeling  indisposed/' 
and  as  if  butter  would  not  melt  in  his  mouth.  He  had 
been  so  quick  I  do  not  think  anybody  but  myself  had 
observed  his  action,  and  until  the  lady  began  groping 
round  her  neck  and  shoulders  for  the  missing  article 
no  one  knew  anything  was  wrong.  When  she  put  up 
her  parasol,  however,  there  was  no  doubt  something 
was  very  wrong,  as  it  is  not  usual  in  church. 

When  Sir  Gerald  went  his  tour  round  the  church 
with  the  offertory  plate,  I  saw  him  shuffle  the  chignon 
on  the  end  of  his  boot  into  Lord  Kitchener's  pew  and 
continue  gravely  round  the  church.  It  was  evident 
that  Lord  Kitchener  was  unaware  of  there  being  any- 
thing unusual  in  his  immediate  neighbourhood,  and 
at  the  end  of  the  service  we  all  trooped  out  and  stood 

chatting  outside  for  a  few  minutes.     Mrs. was 

outside  the  church  with  her  parasol  held  well  down  to 
keep  the  sun  off ;  she  was  waiting  until  the  service  was 
over  to  look  for  something  she  had  dropped  when  she 
had  to  leave  the  church  feeling  faint  !  While  she  was 
explaining  this  to  me  Sir  Gerald  told  Lord  Kitchener 
that  someone  had  said  he  (Lord  Kitchener)  had  left 
something  on  his  seat  in  the  church.  Gerry  then 
hurried  away  for  fear  of  being  sent  to  look  for  whatever 
it  was.  Thus  it  happened  that  Lord  Kitchener 
arrived  in  his  pew  first  to  search  for  what  he  had  left 
behind,  followed  quickly  by  his  pet  aversion.  What 
happened  we  were  never  told,  both  maintained 
a   dignified   silence   about   the   incident,   but   it   was 


204     MEMORIES  DISCREET  AND  INDISCREET 

observed  they  never  spoke  to  one  another  again,  and 
when  she  was  speaking  of  Lord  Kitchener  a  little  later 
called  him  a  ''  contemptible  person/'  Lord  Kitchener 
said  she  ought  to  be  shut  up  !  Rather  like  a  game  of 
consequences ;  and  the  world  thought  they  had 
quarrelled. 

Sir  Gerald  played  his  part  so  well  that  I  do  not 
think  Lord  Kitchener  ever  guessed  the  extent  of  his 
share  in  the  mischief,  and  I  faithfully  kept  my  promise 
not  to  give  him  away,  until  now. 

The  two  men  who  made  Egypt  were  the  late  Lord 
Cromer  and  Lord  Kitchener.  The  former  arrived  in 
the  country  with  an  established,  brilliant  reputation, 
the  latter  as  a  little-known  lieutenant  of  Engineers, 
yet  he  seemed  to  have  been  made  for  the  country,  he 
understood  the  people  and  sympathised  with  all  their 
superstitions  and  fanaticism,  and  undoubtedly  had  a 
great  influence  over  them.  I  could  not  say  they  loved 
him,  but  they  showed  him  respect  and  trust,  tempered 
with  a  wholesome  fear. 

The  Soudanese  have  much  to  thank  him  for.  He 
delivered  them  from  a  horrible  tyranny  and  said  that 
during  the  time  he  was  reorganising  the  entire 
administration,  he  saw  such  shocking  cruelties  in- 
flicted by  the  Mahdi's  troops  that  he  ever  afterwards 
carried  about  with  him  a  little  powder  of  virulent 
poison  to  enable  him  to  put  an  end  to  himself  quickly 
if  ever  he  should  be  unlucky  enough  to  fall  into  the 
Mahdi's  hands.  Not  many  years  before  his  death  I 
asked  him  if  he  still  carried  the  poison  with  him,  and 
he  showed  me  a  tiny  little  fiat  envelope  made  of  oiled 
paper  lying  inside  the  case  of  his  watch,  and  another 
in  his  letter-case.  He  said  probably  both  had  long 
lost  their  savour,  but  they  had  been  his  companions 
for  so  long  he  could  not  make  up  his  mind  to  throw 
them  away. 

There  was  much  criticism  and  heart-burning  when 
Lord  Kitchener  was  appointed  Sirdar  through  the 
influence  of  Lord  Cromer,  who,  caring  nothing  for 
criticism,  knew  he  had  put  his  hand  on  the  right  man 


LORD  KITCHENER  205 

to  reconquer  the  Soudan.  There  was  another  popular 
officer  who  considered  he  had  prior  claims,  he  said 
little  himself  about  his  disappointment,  but  his  friends 
voiced  his  grievances  for  him. 

When  Sir  Ian  Hamilton  returned  from  South  Africa, 
he  said  it  was  a  pleasure  to  work  under  such  a  chief 
as  Lord  Kitchener.  I  think  the  latter  might  have  said 
the  same  of  Lord  Cromer,  for  he  played  loyally  into  his 
hands  from  1876  when  he  was  lieutenant  to  191 1  as 
British  Agent. 

I  have  always  wished  poor  Gordon  could  have  known 
how  whole-heartedly  Kitchener  worked  to  relieve  him, 
he  would  then  have  felt  and  written  less  bitterly. 

My  mind  travels  back  to  the  day  in  January,  1884, 
when  Gordon  left  England  at  the  request  of  the 
British  Government,  to  try  once  more  to  save  the 
Egyptians  from  the  hands  of  the  revolting  natives,  to 
clear  and  proclaim  the  country  under  Egyptian  rule. 
I  can  see  him  now  as  I  saw  him  then,  standing  by 
the  railway-carriage  door  at  Charing  Cross  Station, 
pleased  and  happy,  with  implicit  faith  in  his  country- 
men to  see  him  through.  A  number  of  people  had  come 
to  wish  him  God-speed  and  shake  hands  in  faithful 
friendship.  The  Duke  of  Cambridge,  rotund  and 
cheery,  was  to  be  seen  talking  to  the  square-figured 
little  fanatic.  Everybody  wanted  to  do  something  for 
him.  Lord  Granville,  at  that  time  Foreign  Secretary, 
brushed  imaginary  dust  from  off  Gordon's  coat  collar, 
and  almost  ran  to  take  his  ticket  before  anybody  else 
should  think  of  doing  it.  Sir  Garnet  Wolseley  carried 
his  bag. 

My  young  brother  bought  him  enough  papers  and 
magazines  to  fill  a  seat  in  the  carriage. 

How  often  the  poor  man  must  have  remembered 
that  send-off,  when  he  was  deserted  ;  how  bitterly  he 
must  have  thought  of  some  of  those  old  friends. 

That  several  times  in  his  life  Lord  Kitchener  had 
some  bitter  and  mortifying  moments  no  one  who 
knew  him  can  doubt.  I  know  there  were  times  when 
he  thought  his  best  endeavours  for  the  good  of  the 


2o6     MEMORIES  DISCREET  AND  INDISCREET 

Army  in  particular  and  the  country  in  general  had 
not  met  with  the  acknowledgment  they  deserved. 
I  do  not  think  he  ever  realised  that  he  was  difficult 
and  at  times  almost  impossible  to  work  with.  He  felt 
it  very  keenly  that  posts  of  importance  and  trust  he 
could  have  filled  went  begging. 

On  his  return  from  India,  where  he  had  been  Com- 
mander-in-Chief, he  said  he  felt  deeply  that  he  should 
be  standing  idle  when  he  saw  so  much  of  great  import- 
ance waiting  to  be  done. 

To  my  lay  mind,  I  told  him,  it  did  not  seem  as  if 
there  were  many  posts  that  he  could  be  asked  to  fill 
after  having  been  such  an  exalted  person.  In  reply  to 
this  he  mentioned  one  or  two  he  considered  would  have 
been  suitable ;  he  might  have  been  offered  the  Vice- 
royalty  of  India,  though  he  would  not  have  cared 
for  it ;  he  thought  he  might  have  been  useful  in  the 
War  Office,  or  better  still  British  Agent  in  Egypt, 
adding,  *'The  fact  is  I  am  considered  an  old  fogy  now, 
and  no  more  good,  and  they  do  not  want  fogies  either 
here  or  abroad  apparently." 

Shortly  after  this  discussion  my  eye  fell  on  an 
announcement  in  The  Morning  Post  that  the  post  of 
High  Commissioner  and  Commander-in-Chief  in  the 
Mediterranean  had  been  offered  to  him.  I  felt  sorry 
and  uncomfortable,  knowing  what  he  would  feel  at 
being  offered  a  post  the  Duke  of  Connaught  had  given 
up  because  there  was  not  enough  to  do  ;  and  I  was  not 
surprised  to  hear  he  had  declined  it  and  gone  for  a  tour 
round  the  world. 

I  asked  a  friend  who  is  well  up  in  military  matters 
and  holds  high  office  why  Lord  Kitchener  was  not 
retained  for  the  War  Office,  which  seemed  the  place  of 
all  others  where  he  might  be  wanted.  The  reply  was, 
*'  We  are  all  frightened  of  him,  his  determined  arm 
might  sweep  us  all  off  our  chairs  and  leave  us  either 
out  in  the  cold  or  on  very  uncertain  shelves." 

In  July,  1914,  when  what  Lord  Roberts  and  Lord 
Kitchener  had  so  long  prophesied  came  to  pass. 
Kitchener  was  actually  on  his  way  back  to  his  beloved 


LORD  KITCHENER  207 

Egypt  when  he  was  recalled.  He  considered  it  his 
duty  to  stay  and  do  his  best  at  home,  but  he  most 
bitterly  regretted  not  being  able  to  return  to  Cairo. 

I  have  wondered  many  times  that  he  should  have 
been  so  hard  on  any  signs  of  waywardness  or  lack  of 
discipline  in  those  under  him,  considering  it  was  one 
of  his  own  grave  faults.  He  is  supposed  to  have  run 
away  from  Woolwich  and  joined  General  Chazy's  Army 
of  the  Loire ;  this  is  in  fact  not  quite  correct,  he  had 
already  left  the  "  Shop,''  as  it  is  called,  and  he  enlisted 
in  the  French  Army  between  that  time  and  joining  the 
Royal  Engineers  at  Chatham.  In  his  youth  he 
acknowledged  he  defied  all  authority ;  if  he  wished  to 
do  a  thing  he  did  it,  regardless  of  who  might  say  him 
nay,  also  of  the  consequences.  He  maintained  that 
some  of  the  most  useful  lessons  of  his  life  were  learnt 
while  with  the  French  Army. 

He  saw  the  army  from  the  soldier's  point  of  view, 
learnt  that  they  do  not  resent  hard  work,  hardships, 
discipline,  rules  or  regulations,  but  most  bitterly 
incompetence  in  their  officers,  unnecessary  privations 
brought  about  through  it,  and  injustice  in  any  form. 

During  Lord  Kitchener's  career  his  life  was  several 
times  in  jeopardy.  Lord  Wolseley  saved  him  once, 
one  of  his  staff  another  time  ;  yet  after  his  many 
escapes  he  lost  his  life  close  to  our  own  shores.  When 
the  dreadful  news  reached  us  on  June  7th  our  breath 
was  taken  away,  we  could  not  believe  it.  My  own 
thoughts  flew  back  to  the  day  I  first  saw  him  in  Cairo. 
When  we  lose  old  friends  we  always  seem  to  remember 
them  as  we  knew  them  in  their  youth.  In  a  measure 
I  was  glad  that  he  died  when  he  did,  though  not  in  the 
way  fate  decreed.  The  reason  why  I  was  glad  was 
because  there  were  already  some  heavy  clouds  hanging 
over  his  head  ready  to  burst,  and  it  would  have  been 
painful  to  see  him  torn  limb  from  limb  after  so  many 
years  of  useful  work. 

I  should  have  liked  him  to  die  in  Egypt,  where  he 
was  happy  and  appreciated,  and  I  know  he  would  have 
liked  it  himself,  for  there  his  heart  was  enshrined. 


2o8     MEMORIES  DISCREET  AND  INDISCREET 

It  is  curious  the  stories  that  are  floating  about 
concerning  his  death,  some  people  believe  firmly  that 
he  is  still  alive  and  will  turn  up  again  in  the  flesh  when 
the  war  is  over ;  these  rumours  often  collect  round  any- 
one that  has  died,  so  that  it  is  not  possible  to  collect 
circumstantial  evidence  and  place  witnesses  in  the 
box  under  cross-examination  to  prove  it.  There  are 
still  people  who  believe  General  Hector  Macdonald  is 
alive,  and  we  all  remember  the  Druce  case. 

Lord  Kitchener  always  kept  a  couple  of  cars  stand- 
ing outside  the  War  Office  day  and  night — in  readiness 
to  be  jumped  into  at  a  moment's  notice.  The  day 
before  his  last  fateful  journey,  as  he  was  walking  into 
his  office,  he  saw  one  of  his  chauffeurs  standing  near. 
He  stopped  and  spoke  to  the  man,  saying,  ''  You  are 
married,  are  you  not  ?  "  The  reply  being  in  the  affirma- 
tive. Lord  Kitchener  continued,  *'  Then  I  will  not  take 
you  with  me  to-morrow,  I  will  take  Broome  instead.'' 
So  Broome  and  his  car  went  with  their  master — and 
will  be  seen  no  more  until  the  sea  gives  up  her  dead. 

I  doubt  if  anybody  thoroughly  understood  Lord 
Kitchener,  or  if  he  understood  himself.  He  has  often 
been  harshly  judged.  I  have  heard  him  called  mean, 
yet  his  hospitality,  both  in  India  and  Egypt,  was 
memorable.  I  have  heard  him  called  hard  and  un- 
sympathetic, even  the  gifted  G.  W.  Steevens  writing 
from  Egypt  referred  to  him,  saying,  ''  His  precision  is 
so  inhumanly  unerring,  he  is  more  like  a  machine  than 
a  man."  Someone  else,  I  forget  who,  said  he  ought  to 
be  made  ''  Manager  of  the  Army  and  Navy  Stores," 
in  consequence,  I  presume,  of  his  organising  powers  and 
mathematical  mind. 

Yet  I  doubt  if  any  man  who  is  fond  of  and  kind  to 
animals  can  be  hard,  unsympathetic.  Kitchener  was 
kind  and  gentle  with  his  horses,  though  not  a  great 
horseman,  and  when  in  South  Africa  a  pet  bird  was  ill, 
he  thought  it  was  moping  for  want  of  a  mate  and  tried 
hard  to  find  one  for  it,  though  it  was  at  a  time  when 
he  was  overwhelmed  with  work. 

After  the  memorial  service  at  Khartoum  he  could 


LORD  KITCHENER  209 

not  trust  himself  to  speak ;  again  after  the  victory  at 
Atbara  he  was  in  contrasting  mood,  laughed,  cheered 
and  ran  about  shaking  hands  with  everybody.  Can  we 
justly  call  this  man  hard  and  unsympathetic  ? 

That  he  was  deeply  religious  I  know.  I  had  several 
opportunities  of  judging  this.  Once  in  Cairo  I  had 
crept  out  of  Shepheard's  Hotel  in  the  early  morning 
when  few  were  astir  and  gone  to  the  little  English 
church  for  the  early  service.  In  front  of  me  knelt  Lord 
Kitchener.  He  liked  to  begin  each  day  with  prayer  and, 
if  possible,  in  God's  House. 

I  thought  in  later  years  that  the  wall  he  built 
around  himself,  the  reserve  and  silence  with  which  he 
fortified  himself,  the  splendid  isolation  he  had  created, 
refraining  from  intimate  human  companionship,  had 
become  painful  to  him.  In  a  way  he  resented  it  ;  he 
felt  something  was  wanting,  that  he  was  not  necessary 
to  anybody's  happiness,  and,  while  congratulating 
himself  on  his  few  obhgations,  felt  lonely  without 
them. 

Losing  his  mother  quite  early  in  life  had  been  a 
blow  to  him.  I  think  that  the  amenities  of  home  life 
have  much  to  do  with  the  making  of  fine  men.  I  have 
always  felt  the  one  thing  wanting  for  Lord  Kitchener's 
happiness  was  someone  to  be  devoted  to  him,  someone 
he  knew  would  be  proud  of  him.  Gratitude  was  a 
marked  feature  in  his  character.  He  never  forgot 
even  the  smallest  service  rendered  to  him.  He  was 
certainly  careful  in  money  matters,  yet  loved  collecting 
curios  for  the  day  when  he  should  retire  from  responsi- 
biUties,  fighting  and  strife,  to  settle  down  for  a 
peaceful  autumn  and  winter  of  his  life,  surrounded 
with  all  his  collected  treasures,  china,  curios  and 
antiques,  from  all  ends  of  the  world.  He  had  begun 
the  arranging  of  them,  a  work  of  great  pleasure,  in  his 
new  home,  Broome  Park,  near  Canterbury,  which  he 
bought  in  191 1.  He  had  been  busy  planning  his  new 
gardens  to  be  filled  with  his  favourite  flowers, 
geraniums,  when  war  broke  out,  and  all  had  to  be  left 
for  happier  times,  not  vouchsafed  to  him  here. 


210     MEMORIES  DISCREET  AND  INDISCREET 

I  am  glad  he  lived  long  enough  to  see  the  British 
Army  raised  to  the  same  scale  as  Continental  armies. 
I  wonder  if  Wellington  could  have  called  for  1,000,000 
men  and  got  them  as  Kitchener  did  in  1914  ? 

I  shall  always  carry  in  my  heart  a  warm  corner  for 
Lord  Kitchener.  He  was  a  kind  friend  to  me,  and  no 
matter  how  busy  he  was,  no  letter  asking  for  his 
advice  or  help  was  ever  left  unanswered.  Very  shortly, 
in  fact  only  a  few  weeks,  before  his  death  I  received 
a  letter  from  him  full  of  kindliness  and  sympathy, 
when  my  son  came  home  from  Flanders,  probably 
winged  for  life. 

India  is  congratulating  itself  on  having  a  memorial 
of  Lord  Kitchener  in  the  statue  of  him  mounted  on 
Lord  William  Beresford's  old  race-horse  '*  Democrat." 

A  great  and  brave  man  on  a  good  and  plucky 
horse. 


CHAPTER  XIV 

SOME   EGYPTIAN    EXPERIENCES 

A  Train  on  Fire — A  Missionary  Tries  to  Save  Me — Uses  a  Soda-water 
Syphon  as  an  Extinguisher — Lost  Shoes — Blistered  Feet — Un- 
dignified Entry  into  Alexandria — How  a  Bath  was  Secured — Mr. 
Melton  Prior  Amuses  Us — He  is  Angry — My  Double — Mr.  Moberly 
Bell — I  Blossom  Out  as  a  War  Correspondent — Mr,  Moberly  Bell 
Interviewed — His  Prophecy — His  Death. 

/I  MONGST  other  Egyptian  experiences  I  include 

L\  a  railway  accident,  which  sounds  alarming, 
jL  jL,  but  was  really  amusing,  except  for  the  fact 
that  it  inconvenienced  a  train -load  of  sick  soldiers 
on  their  way  to  what  I  believe  they  now  term 
"  Blighty/' 

I  was  on  my  way  from  Cairo  to  Alexandria  to  meet 
my  husband,  who  was  on  a  troopship  coming  from 
India  on  the  way  home,  and  our  train-load  of  sick  was 
to  be  picked  up  at  our  destination,  Alexandria. 

Various  kind  friends  came  to  see  me  off  from  Cairo, 
and  the  people  I  had  been  staying  with  provided  me 
with  a  large  luncheon-basket  full  of  good  things  for 
the  journey,  cold  chicken,  sandwiches,  tomatoes,  dates, 
a  syphon  of  soda-water  and  other  dainties. 

The  train  was  full  owing  to  the  number  of  sick 
soldiers,  so  Gerry  Portal,  who  was  amongst  those  come 
to  see  me  off,  asked  one  of  the  railway  officials  whom 
he  knew  if  he  would  allow  me  to  travel  in  his,  the 
officiars,  reserved  compartment.  He  kindly  con- 
sented, and  also  took  pity  on  a  frantic  missionary 
running  up  and  down  the  platform  unable  to  find 
room  anywhere. 

The  official  was  introduced  to  me  and  I  found  him 
exceedingly  kind  and  pleasant,  but  I  regret  to  say  I 
have  forgotten  his  name,  and  was  never  quite  clear 

211 


212     MEMORIES  DISCREET  AND  INDISCREET 

whether  he  was  manager  of  the  railway,  chairman,  or 
what  ?  But  an  authority,  at  any  rate,  and  if  he  is 
ahve  now  I  again  thank  him  for  all  his  kindness  on  that 
occasion,  and  ask  his  permission  to  call  him  Mr.  A. 
for  the  moment. 

I  had  been  feeling  ill  for  some  time,  so  made  up  my 
mind  as  soon  as  the  train  started  I  would  lie  down  and 
try  to  sleep. 

After  many  tender  good-byes  and  the  usual  number 
of  *'  Take  care  of  yourselfs,''  we  steamed  out  of  the 
station.  The  day  was  hot  and  after  a  little  polite 
conversation  we  all  settled  down  to  snooze.  I  lay  full 
length  down  one  side  of  the  compartment.  At  my 
feet  sat  the  missionary  dozing,  opposite  Mr.  A.,  doing 
the  same.  The  luncheon-basket  on  the  rack  above  the 
seat  opposite  to  me.  As  soon  as  my  companions  began 
nodding  I  quickly  kicked  off  my  shoes  underneath  my 
dust-sheet  covering  and  dozed  also.  How  long  we  had 
been  in  dreamland  I  do  not  know  exactly,  when  Mr. 
A.  jumped  up  saying  the  carriage  was  on  fire.  This 
appeared  to  be  true  enough,  smoke  was  issuing  in 
some  volume  under  the  sleeping  missionary.  Mr.  A. 
shook  him,  while  assuring  me  there  was  no  occasion  to 
be  frightened  ;  he  could  easily  stop  the  train  and  all 
would  be  well.  With  this  in  view  he  put  his  head  out 
of  the  carriage  window,  waved  his  white  handkerchief 
and  began  shouting  to  the  engine  driver,  two  coach- 
lengths  away.  I  sat  up  and  began  to  look  for  my 
shoes  preparatory  to  getting  out  ;  the  missionary  was 
just  alive  to  the  fact  that  something  was  wrong  and 
was  making  for  me  with  arms  outstretched,  saying 
excitedly,  "  Oh,  I  must  save  you,  I  must  save  you.'' 

I  was  vaguely  wondering  how  putting  his  arms 
round  me  was  going  to  save  me  when  the  whole 
carriage  went  down  on  one  side  where  the  missionary 
had  been  sitting,  and  I  was  shot  down  violently  on 
top  of  him,  while  on  top  of  me  came  the  luncheon- 
basket,  which  had  burst  open,  hurling  the  chicken 
into  one  corner,  tomatoes  here,  there,  and  everywhere. 
The  missionary  was  now  really  excited.     Seeing  a 


SOME  EGYPTIAN  EXPERIENCES        213 

soda-water  syphon  rolling  about  he  seized  it  and  began 
diligently  squirting  me  and  the  fire.  Poor  Mr.  A., 
who  had  nearly  fallen  out  of  the  window  as  the 
carriage  subsided,  and  had  just  wriggled  himself  back 
into  the  compartment  and  turned  to  tell  us  he  had 
attracted  the  driver's  attention  and  all  would  be  well, 
when  he  was  deprived  of  speech  and  breath  by  a 
forceful  stream  of  soda-water  from  the  syphon  full  in 
Ms  face.  The  parson  was  still  trying  to  save  us  by 
putting  out  the  fire.  The  syphon  was  taken  from  him, 
not  that  it  mattered  now  as  it  was  empty. 

The  train  stopped,  the  men  jumped  out  on  the  high 
side  of  the  carriage  and  I  jumped  after  them,  but 
without  my  shoes.  I  could  not  find  them,  probably 
they  were  amongst  the  things  on  the  burning  side  of 
the  coach.  I  know  the  chicken  was  ;  I  smelt  it.  We 
made  all  haste  to  get  the  sick  and  wounded  occupants 
out  of  the  rest  of  the  coach  and  laid  them  down  on  the 
sandhills  until  we  could  pack  them  away  somewhere 
amongst  the  other  carriages.  The  burning  coach  was 
uncoupled,  then  thrown  off  the  line,  and  the  rest  re- 
coupled.  While  this  was  being  done  we  rearranged 
the  sick  soldiers,  who  were  very  worried  at  the  delay, 
fearing  the  troopship  might  go  on  without  them. 

Everybody  behaved  very  well,  and  the  soldiers 
most  patient.  I  wished  the  parson  had  not  used  up 
the  soda-water  as  the  men  felt  the  heat  and  exposure, 
wanting  water  or  something  to  drink  badly.  The 
missionary  worked  really  well,  and  was  most  helpful 
in  lifting  and  carrying  the  soldiers,  but  even  in  such 
exciting  moments  I  could  not  help  feeling  amused,  for 
at  intervals  he  kept  bursting  into  song.  He  would 
throw  back  his  chest,  brace  himself  up,  hitch  at  his 
shirt-sleeves  and  nether  garments  (his  coat  had  been 
thrown  on  to  a  sandhill),  then  as  he  stooped  down  to 
take  one  end  of  a  stretcher  or  railway-seat  cushion 
occupied  by  a  sick  soldier  he  would  indulge  in  song. 
One  moment  I  gathered  he  was  ''  Far  from  his 
Heavenly  Home,''  at  another  he  was  going  to  ''  Arise 
and  go,"  I  did  not  catch  where  to. 


214     MEMORIES  DISCREET  AND  INDISCREET 

At  last  all  was  in  order  once  more  and  we  moved  on 
towards  Alexandria,  hoping  to  be  in  time  to  catch  the 
transport.  We  were  now  seated  in  the  luggage  van  on 
top  of  all  sorts  of  queer-looking,  queer-shaped  boxes 
and  bundles.  I  wished  so  much  we  could  move  a 
little  faster.  We  were  travelling,  as  we  had  done  the 
whole  journey,  very  deliberately  ;  but  I  feared  if  I 
made  any  remark  on  our  speed  the  official  might 
consider  it  a  personal  matter.  We  were  on  a  single 
line  and  very  few  trains  were  running,  so  there  really 
had  been  very  little  risk  either  of  collision  or  from 
excessive  speed,  the  only  thing  that  mattered  was  the 
discomfort  and  delay  for  the  sick. 

While  the  three  of  us  were  perched  on  various 
pinnacles  of  baggage  we  examined  our  wounds.  The 
parson's  hand  was  bleeding  but  he  smiled  sweetly  and 
could  not  say  how  it  happened.  The  official  put  on 
his  coat,  mopped  his  brow  and  heaved  sighs  of  relief, 
while  I  looked  in  dismay  at  my  indecent,  shoeless  feet, 
now  much  blistered,  and  my  silk  stockings  full  of  holes. 
Running  about  on  the  hot  sand  had  not  agreed  with 
them.  After  a  rueful  glance  at  them  hanging  down  over 
a  pile  of  soldiers'  bundles,  I  looked  up  and  caught  the 
eye  of  Mr.  A.  For  a  moment  he  became  rigid  as  he 
glanced  from  my  feet  to  my  face,  and  my  face  to  my 
feet,  then  the  utter  absurdity  of  the  whole  situation 
seized  us  simultaneously,  and  we  became  inarticulate 
with  laughter.  He  began  something  about  ''  so 
sorry  "  and  could  get  no  further,  had  to  stop  and 
wipe  away  his  tears.  I  began  ''  I  lost  them  "  and 
could  get  no  further.  The  parson  did  not  know  what 
amused  us  but  was  sure  it  was  very  funny  and  laughed 
too. 

In  time  we  overcame  our  mirth  and  began  explana- 
tions. There  had  been  no  time  before.  We  were  all 
so  busy.  The  situation  had  burst  upon  us  so  suddenly, 
calling  for  prompt  action.  Mr.  A.  explained  some  part 
of  the  mechanism  of  the  train,  connected,  I  think, 
with  the  wheels,  got  hot  and  set  fire  to  the  woodwork 
of  the  coach,  which  caused  the  disaster.    I  assured  my 


SOME  EGYPTIAN  EXPERIENCES        215 

newly-found  friend  that  I  really  was  in  the  habit  of 
wearing  shoes  or  boots  and  verily  and  indeed  had 
some  on  when  I  started.  The  parson  explained  how 
anxious  he  had  been  to  save  us  body  and  soul.  None 
of  us  made  any  allusion  to  the  soda-water  syphon. 

I  feared  my  entry  into  Alexandria  to  greet  my 
husband  would  not  be  dignified  with  my  feet  tied  up 
in  pocket  handkerchiefs,  but  when  the  moment 
arrived  I  had  no  time  to  think  about  it,  as  the  troop- 
ship was  waiting  and  the  men  had  to  be  taken  on 
board  as  quickly  as  possible.  For  some  time  I  ran 
about  with  my  feet  tied  up  in  pocket  handkerchiefs, 
but  they  worked  loose  and  got  in  my  way,  tripping  me 
up,  so  I  pulled  them  off  and  ran  about  in  what  was 
left  of  my  stockings.  However,  all  is  well  that  ends 
well,  and  the  sick  men  sailed  away  for  home. 

I  could  not  bring  myself  to  journey  home  on  a  troop- 
ship. My  husband  gave  me  such  horrifying  accounts 
of  the  discomforts  for  ladies,  and  told  me  of  such 
fierce  quarrels  amongst  the  women  on  board,  that  I 
decided  to  return  by  a  passenger  steamer  a  little  later. 
I  never  saw  the  missionary  again,  and  do  not  know 
where  he  went  to,  but  had  the  pleasure  of  introducing 
Mr.  A.  to  my  husband,  who  thanked  him  for  his  kind 
care  of  me.  I  then  returned  to  Cairo  for  a  time  until 
I  could  get  a  passage  on  a  P.  &  O.  After  waiting  some 
time  and  being  unable  to  secure  a  berth,  I  decided  to 
go  by  a  smaller,  cheaper  line  which  shall  be  nameless, 
for  its  discomforts  were  great,  and  the  provision  of 
food  small. 

Happily  a  number  of  people  I  knew  were  coming 
home  on  the  same  steamer  as  far  as  Marseilles,  all  of 
whom  had  been  soldiering  at  the  front,  amongst  them 
Colonel  Stanley  Clarke,  Lord  Hay  of  Kinfauns,  Mr. 
Melton  Prior,  Mr.  Walter  Ingram  and  Colonel 
Harrington. 

We  discovered  there  was  only  one  bath  on  the  ship, 
and  that  one  repulsive.  I  made  many  attempts  to 
secure  it  but  always  found  it  occupied  and  a  queue  of 
people  waiting  their  turn.     My  endeavours  had  been 


2i6     MEMORIES  DISCREET  AND  INDISCREET 

observed,  for  one  evening  when  I  was  sitting  reading, 
Lord  Hay  came  up  to  me  saying  they  had  been 
arranging  between  them  how  to  keep  the  bath  for  me 
and  proposed  that  I  should  get  up  very  early.  They 
would  come  and  knock  at  my  cabin  door,  one  knock  ; 
and  I  must  get  ready  to  fly  off  when  a  double  knock 
came.  Five  of  them  were  going  to  stand  outside  the 
bathroom  door  as  if  waiting  their  turn.  I  was  then  to 
walk  up  calmly  in  front  of  them  and  usurp  the  leader's 
place,  walk  into  the  bathroom  and  leave  them 
ejaculating.    This  little  scheme  worked  splendidly. 

There  were  days  in  my  life  when,  to  ''  run  the 
gauntlet  "  of  all  these  men  and  the  many  others 
awaiting  their  turn,  would  have  been  impossible  to  me 
in  my  demi-toilet,  my  hair  all  piled  on  top  of  my  head 
out  of  the  way  ;  but  after  travelling  about  the  world 
for  a  while  one  learns  how  this  sort  of  self -consciousness 
makes  everybody  uncomfortable  and  creates  awkward 
situations  out  of  what  is  meant  for  kindness,  besides 
who  cares  what  you  look  like  ? 

Mr.  Melton  Prior  kept  us  amused  on  this  voyage 
with  his  funny  stories,  mostly  against  himself,  highly 
coloured  on  purpose,  to  entertain  us,  I  think.  One 
day  at  luncheon,  which  by  the  way  consisted  of 
**  bouillon  "  according  to  the  menu,  but  according  to 
Mr.  Prior  it  was  the  water  they  had  washed  the  dishes 
in,  the  only  other  alternative  being  sardines  and 
bread.  But  now  for  the  story.  Mr.  Prior  wished  us  to 
believe  that  on  one  occasion,  when  the  Battle  of 
Tamai  was  at  its  height,  he  became  frightened.  He 
had  lost  his  head  covering  and  he  feared  the  baldness 
of  his  cranium  might  form  a  target  for  the  enemy,  so 
determined  to  run  away.  This  he  carried  out,  running 
as  fast  as  his  legs  would  take  him,  until  he  thought  he 
must  be  out  of  danger's  way,  finding  this  was  not  the 
case  he  hid  his  head  in  the  sand.  As  that  did  not  help 
him  much,  and  shells  were  playing  little  games  around 
him,  he  came  to  the  conclusion  that  the  middle  of  the 
square  was  the  best  place  for  him  and  ran  all  the  way 
back  again. 


SOME  EGYPTIAN  EXPERIENCES        217 

None  of  us  believed  a  word  of  it  but  we  were 
grateful  to  him  for  amusing  us. 

I  only  once  saw  Mr.  Prior  angry.  At  Shepheard's 
Hotel  in  Cairo,  a  lady  who  did  not  know  him  to  speak 
to,  came  up  while  we  were  conversing,  saying,  '*  Mr. 
Prior,  I  think  ?  "  he  bowed  and  said  he  believed  so, 
or  something  to  that  effect ;  she  then  said,  "  I  wish, 
Mr.  Prior,  you  would  draw  a  little  picture  for  me,  I 
should  so  value  it.  I  have  a  collection  of  autographs 
and  I  want  you  to  draw  a  nice  little  picture  for  me  to 
go  with  them,  a  battle  scene  I  would  like  best." 

I  was  very  much  amused,  not  so  Mr.  Prior,  he 
glared  at  her  without  speaking,  then  turned  to  me 
still  glaring  through  his  spectacles  and  said  out  aloud 
so  that  she  could  hear,  '*  That  is  the  way  we  get  shot, 
Mrs. ,  did  you  ever  hear  anything  like  it  ?  " 

I  tried  to  turn  it  off  by  saying  we  would  all  like  to 
have  some  of  his  drawings,  and  no  doubt  he  was  weary 
of  being  asked  for  them.  I  think  the  lady  scented 
danger,  she  looked  a  little  uncomfortable  but  put  her 
head  on  one  side  looking  archly  at  the,  for  the  moment, 
unappreciative  glaring  Mr.  Prior  and  said  in  a  simper- 
ing voice,  *'  I  know  you  will,  here  is  my  name  and 
address,  I  shall  wait  anxiously  for  it  !  " 

I  took  the  opportunity  to  move  hurriedly  away  and 
speak  to  Mrs.  Gramshaw  standing  near,  but  kept  one 
eye  on  Mr.  Prior.  He  stood  for  a  moment  after  the 
woman  left  him,  then  dropped  the  card  on  which  she 
had  written  her  address  and  scrubbed  it  up  and  down 
on  the  steps  of  the  hotel  with  his  boot,  then  walked 
away  talking  to  himself.  It  was  such  an  astonishing 
piece  of  impertinence,  I  wondered  he  did  not  see  the 
ridiculous  side  of  the  request. 

The  Mrs.  Gramshaw  referred  to  above  was  supposed 
to  be  my  double.  I  could  not  see  the  likeness  ;  neither 
could  she,  but  at  a  party  we  were  giving  at  the  Lyric 
Club,  when  in  Bond  Street,  some  friends  of  my 
brother's  he  had  asked  me  to  invite,  and  whom  I  had 
met  for  the  first  time  that  evening,  went  up  to  her  to 
say  good  night  and  thanked  her  in  the  usual  stereo- 


2i8     MEMORIES  DISCREET  AND  INDISCREET 

typed  phrases  for  a  pleasant  evening,  thinking  of 
course  it  was  I.  Another  time,  one  of  my  friends 
walked  down  Regent  Street  after  her  into  the  flower- 
shop  she  had  entered  and  where  she  was  making 
purchases,  not  finding  out  his  mistake  until  he  heard 
her  voice,  then  bolted  out  again  before  betraying 
himself. 

The  Egyptian  campaign  was  in  the  palmy  days  of 
the  war  correspondents.  Melton  Prior,  Moberly  Bell, 
Archibald  Forbes  and  Cameron,  are  still  famous  names 
from  that  wonderful  little  band  that  went  everywhere 
and  saw  everything  with  the  armies  of  Europe  in  a 
way  that  is  never  permitted  now. 

It  was  in  Egypt  I  first  met  Mr.  Moberly  Bell, 
correspondent  to  The  Times.  He  had  come  back  from 
the  front  with  a  crushed  foot  and  a  broken  ankle, 
suffering  a  good  deal  of  pain  ;  and  worried  about  his 
work.  I  said  to  him  one  day,  *'  I  wish  I  could  help 
you,  don't  you  think  perhaps  I  could  ?  '*  He  smiled 
his  kind,  benevolent  smile  and  replied,  ''It  is  very 
kind  of  you,  have  you  ever  written  anything  for  any 
paper  ?  ''  I  replied,  "  No,  but  I  would  like  to."  He 
then  said,  ''  Will  you  write  something  for  me  to  see  ? 
say  one  thousand  words  on  any  subject  you  like.'' 
I  pressed  him  to  name  one,  so  he  answered,  *'  The 
present  political  situation  ;  Necessity  is  the  mother  of 
invention;  anything."  I  answered,  ''Very  well,"  and 
went  off  to  my  room  to  see  what  I  could  do. 

After  an  hour's  mastication  of  the  end  of  my  pen, 
an  essay  of  one  thousand  words  on  "  Necessity  being 
the  mother  of  invention  "  was  sent  on  its  way  to 
Mr.  Bell.  When  I  saw  the  invalid  the  next  day  he 
was  kind  enough  to  tell  me  my  effort  was  "  excellent." 
He  then  and  there  gave  me  a  bundle  of  telegrams  and 
some  documents  he  wanted  written  up,  giving  me  an 
idea  of  his  views.  When  I  had  finished  what  he  wished 
written  he  went  through  the  manuscripts,  making 
what  corrections  he  thought  necessary,  and  away  they 
went.  I  loved  the  work  and  delighted  in  Mr.  Bell. 
He  was  so  well-informed,  gracious  and  withal  full  of 


SOME  EGYPTIAN  EXPERIENCES        219 

imagination.  In  those  days  he  had  a  big  beard  which 
suited  him  admirably.  When  he  shaved  it  off  later,  it 
entirely  altered  his  appearance,  and  was  not  an 
improvement.  It  was  sad  to  see  that  great,  fine, 
handsome  man  tied  by  the  leg  for  so  long,  and  I  was 
glad  to  be  able  to  help  him  even  in  a  small  measure. 
What  struck  me  most,  when  first  I  saw  him,  was  the 
benevolence  of  his  expression  and  his  courteous 
manners,  he  might  have  been  an  ambassador. 

The  day  came  all  too  soon  when  I  had  to  say  good- 
bye to  Egypt  and  all  my  kind  friends  and  return  home. 
I  hardly  knew  how  much  I  had  enjoyed  my  writing 
until  the  moment  came  when  I  had  to  give  it  up. 

After  my  return  to  England  I  received  a  very  nice 
note  from  Mr.  Bell  telling  me  he  missed  my  help  and 
enclosing  what  he  called  a  small  cheque  (in  return  for 
my  work)  which  perhaps  would  come  in  useful  for 
some  of  my  charities.  This  was  the  first  and  last  time 
I  ever  received  a  cheque  for  services  rendered  as  a 
war  correspondent  !  It  was  for  £60.  I  did  not  con- 
sider the  cheque  small  at  all,  but  newspaper  pro- 
prietors I  suppose  deal  with  such  large  sums,  it  seemed 
small  to  him. 

Mrs.  Moberly  Bell,  who  is  still  living,  tells  me  she 
remembers  her  husband  telling  her  about  me  and  my 
writing. 

Poor  Mr.  Bell,  he  was  very  patient  with  that  bad 
foot,  and  suffered  a  good  deal.  It  kept  him  a  prisoner 
in  hospital  four  months,  and  had  no  less  than  twenty- 
two  separate  operations  on  it,  yet  he  would  not  allow 
a  word  of  his  misfortune  to  reach  his  wife,  she  being  ill 
at  home,  and  he  feared  she  would  try  and  reach  him, 
which  would  make  her  much  worse,  so  she  was  left 
with  the  impression  that  he  had  a  sprained  ankle,  about 
which  he  wrote  cheerfully. 

Born  in  Alexandria  in  1847  and  having  been  in  an 
Egyptian  mercantile  firm  there  for  some  years,  Mr. 
Bell  was  well  versed  in  the  geography  of  the  country 
and  the  habits  of  the  people.  This,  combined  with  his 
knowledge  of  Arabic,  made  him  very  useful  in  Egypt. 


220      MEMORIES  DISCREET  AND  INDISCREET 

He  was  on  the  Condor  with  Lord  Beresford  during  the 
bombardment,  and  said  he  thoroughly  enjoyed  it. 
When  the  blue-jackets  landed  he  acted  as  interpreter 
for  them.  He  was  also  constantly  with  the  troops  in 
their  different  encounters  near  Ramleh. 

One  of  the  plucky  things  he  did  during  those 
troublous  times  I  am  told  was  to  shut  himself  in  a 
village  where  cholera  was  raging  because  the  Govern- 
ment had  cor  donned  it.  No  supplies  could  get  in,  the 
inhabitants  being  in  danger  of  starvation,  but  by  being 
inside  he  could  send  telegrams  more  effectually  until 
the  cordon  was  removed  ;  this  was  in  1883. 

In  1890  Mr.  Bell  returned  to  England  to  help  Mr. 
Walter  in  the  management  of  The  Times  in  London, 
still  lame  from  the  crushed  foot  and  ankle.  This 
prevented  him  taking  much  exercise  or  enjoying  out- 
door amusements  ;  he  now  became  more  than  ever  an 
omniverous  reader  and  wrote  almost  unceasingly. 
He  was  a  determined  man  with  a  remarkably  active 
brain.  When  I  asked  him  what  was  his  favourite 
amusement  or  recreation,  he  answered,  '*  Work."  It 
will  be  remembered  The  Times  Atlas  was  the  result  of 
some  of  this  favourite  recreation,  also  The  History  of 
the  South  African  War. 

The  establishment  of  the  Times  Book  Club  in  1905 
was  the  work  of  the  same  brain,  and  caused  a  con- 
siderable flutter  in  the  publishing  and  book-selling 
dovecotes.  He,  thought  the  people  of  this  country  did 
not  read  enough  and  wished  for  books  to  be  brought 
within  the  reach  of  everyone.  There  has  been  an 
enormous  development  in  the  book-selling  trade  in  the 
last  few  years  before  the  war,  so  perhaps  he  was 
right. 

Mr.  Bell's  religious  views  were  interesting.  Dogma 
was  abhorrent  to  him,  also  anything  in  the  shape  of 
priestcraft,  yet  he  was  not  irreligious,  but  rather 
interested  in  all  religions  and  in  the  various  develop- 
ments of  them.  By  nature  sceptical  and  keenly 
critical. 

His  views  on  the  present  situation  as  expressed  by 


SOME  EGYPTIAN  EXPERIENCES        221 

him  in  September,  1909,  in  an  interview  which  was 
printed  in  The  San  Francisco  Chronicle  is  of  interest. 
After  giving  Lord  NorthcHffe's  views  on  the  poHtical 
situation  in  Europe  he  continued :  '*  I  do  not  think 
there  is  any  doubt  that  there  will  be  a  war  between 
Great  Britain  and  Germany  before  long.  The  situa- 
tion is  very  much  as  a  French  writer  pictured  that 
between  France  and  Germany  before  the  Franco- 
German  War,  when  he  said  the  two  countries  were 
like  two  railway  trains  rushing  together  on  a  single 
track. 

**  Germany  is  increasing  her  population  beyond  the 
limits  of  her  country  to  support,  and  in  looking  about 
for  new  lands  she  finds,  unfortunately,  that  the  most 
available  belong  to  Great  Britain.  In  this  situation  it 
is  only  natural,  perhaps,  that  Germany  should  seek 
some  pretext  for  a  quarrel,  and  quarrels  that  are 
sought  are  generally  easy  enough  to  find. 

'*  If  England  should  get  into  trouble  in  India,  as  is 
not  unlikely,  you  would  probably  find  Germany  quick 
to  take  advantage  of  it,  or  if  other  conditions  arise 
which  seem  to  place  England  at  a  disadvantage, 
Germany  would  not  miss  the  opportunity  to  strike 
a  blow.  She  might,  for  excuse,  pick  a  quarrel  with 
France  or  with  Holland,  and  England  would  be 
obliged  to  intervene.  It  is  not  that  there  is  any 
alliance  between  Great  Britain  and  France  that  could 
compel  this,  but  Great  Britain  would  not  be  willing 
to  see  France  again  defeated  by  Germany.  France  is 
too  close  to  England's  doors  to  make  that  desirable. 

*'  Unless  something  occurs  which  makes  it  inevit- 
able, in  Germany's  opinion,  to  provoke  immediate 
war  with  England,  it  is  probable  that  Germany  will 
delay  the  conflict  for  a  few  years,  until  her  navy  is 
proportionately  stronger  than  it  is  now,  and  it  is 
significant  that  all  the  new  German  battleships  are 
being  built  with  very  small  coal  capacity.  As  she  has 
few  coaling  stations  it  is  obvious  that  the  German 
strategists  contemplate  a  struggle  at  close  quarters. 
In  other  words  that  the  contest  will  take  place  in  the 


222     MEMORIES  DISCREET  AND  INDISCREET 

English  Channel  in  a  desperate  effort  to  land  a  German 
army  on  English  soil,  under  cover  of  the  German 
fleet." 

The  paper  then  continues :  ''  Germany  at  the 
present  time  occupies  somewhat  the  same  position 
in  the  eyes  of  Europe  as  did  Napoleon  a  hundred  years 
ago,  namely  that  of  a  public  enemy,"  is  Bell's  view 
of  that  country,  as  a  result  of  the  diplomacy  of  the 
Kaiser  and  his  statesmen.  **  The  German  Emperor," 
he  said,  *'  is  a  strong  and  able  ruler,  but  he  is  emotional 
and  impetuous,  and  such  men  can  never  be  depended 
on  to  pursue  a  steady  policy.  I  do  not  believe  that 
much  popular  hatred  of  England  exists  among  the 
Germans  at  present,  but  the  Emperor  is  a  source  of 
danger." 

Mr.  Bell  was  unwilUng  to  hazard  an  opinion  as  to  the 
probable  outcome  of  a  conflict  between  Germany  and 
Great  Britain,  but  he  said  that  it  is  essential  to  the 
latter's  safety  that  a  system  of  universal  military 
training  should  be  inaugurated  in  England,  and  he 
expects  to  see  such  training  compulsory  before  long. 

The  interview  continues  :  '*  Raw  material  is  not  of 
great  use  in  the  first  clash  of  arms,  that  was  strikingly 
illustrated  in  our  South  African  War.  The  volunteers 
who  went  out  there,  brave  and  enthusiastic  as  they 
were,  lacked  efficiency,  because  they  lacked  training. 
My  son,  then  seventeen  years  old,  was  one  of  those 
volunteers.  When  he  came  to  me  and  said  he  was 
going  to  enlist,  I  asked  him  what  use  he  was  going  to 
be.  *  Well  at  any  rate  I  can  die  for  my  country,'  he 
replied,  and  I  said  to  him,  '  That  is  no  good,  the 
question  is,  can  you  make  some  fellow  on  the  other 
side  die  ?  '  " 

I  know  that  in  1909  Mr.  Moberly  Bell  said  this  war 
must  come  within  five  years,  and  his  words  have  come 
true. 

He  died  as  he  would  have  wished,  sitting  in  his 
chair  at  The  Times  office.  He  was  writing  to  the  then 
Postmaster-General  an  amusing  letter  on  a  difference 
of   opinion   he   had   on   some   business   point,      His 


SOME  EGYPTIAN  EXPERIENCES        223 

secretary  had  just  turned  to  get  an  envelope  to  match 
his  note-paper  when  she  heard  him  sigh.  He  had  laid 
down  his  pen  as  if  to  think  for  a  moment  about  his 
next  sentence,  and  quietly  and  peacefully  died  on 
April  5th,  1911.  He  had  been  under  the  doctor's 
orders  for  some  weeks  for  heart  strain,  and  was 
believed  to  be  quite  well  again. 


CHAPTER  XV 

SOME    GENERALS   AND    BATTLES 

Sir  John  Ardagh — At  the  Battle  of  Gunnis — Looks  after  the  Cooking — 
Drives  an  Engine — Works  on  the  Line — Relieves  Me  of  a  Tiresome 
Charge — Marries — Director  of  Military  Intelligence — Someone  to 
Blame — Hague  Conference — Advice  in  His  Office — My  Experiences 
in  Alexandria — View  the  Battlefield  of  Tel-el- Kebir — Lord  Wolseley 
has  an  Accident — Mr.  Melton  Prior  Promises  not  to  Tell — Mr. 
Walter  Ingram  Shoots  the  Nile  Cataracts — Sir  John  Ardagh  as 
Arbiter. 

GENERAL  SIR  JOHN  ARDAGH,  who  had 
such  a  number  of  letters  of  the  alphabet 
after  his  name,  and  who  prophesied  that 
Captain  Kitchener,  Mr.  Gerald  Portal  and  Captain 
Baden-Powell  would  leave  their  mark  in  history,  was 
one  of  those  willing  horses  who  habitually  get  worked 
too  hard. 

A  reserved,  silent  man,  unusually  gifted,  clever  with 
brush  and  pencil,  an  architect,  astronomer  and 
linguist,  able  to  speak  and  read  French,  German, 
Italian,  Spanish,  Turkish,  Arabic  and  Hindustani, 
besides  being  a  Greek  and  Latin  scholar.  He  had 
travelled  nearly  the  world  over,  gathering  knowledge 
wherever  he  went. 

I  have  heard  his  staff  speak  of  him  as  '*  a  perfect 
encyclopaedia  of  knowledge  and  a  lovable  associate.'' 
He  lived  at  a  time  of  hard  workers — Lord  Kitchener, 
Sir  Charles  Douglas,  to  wit ;  both  of  these  men  were 
ceaseless  workers,  expecting  others  to  do  as  they  did, 
and  having  something  to  say  if  they  did  not.  With 
Sir  John  Ardagh  work  was  not  so  much  a  passion  as  a 
stem  duty,  yet  at  all  times  ready  with  excuses  for 
those  who  failed  to  live  up  to  his  high  standard,  often 
doing  their  work  for  them. 

He  was  an  engineer  of  repute  when  first  I  knew  him, 

224 


SOME  GENERALS  AND  BATTLES        225 

and  had  been  for  many  years  in  the  employment  of 
the  Foreign  Office,  Colonial  Office  and  Treasury.  It 
was  very  difficult  to  get  him  to  talk  about  himself  at 
all,  which  I  regretted,  as  I  have  known  few  men  who 
could  have  told  more  interesting  stories.  In  Cairo, 
where  he  did  so  much  useful  work,  he  was  not  popular 
amongst  the  social  butterffies,  for  he  had  no  time  to 
dally.  Whenever  he  was  seen  outside  his  office  he  was 
going  in  haste  to  see  some  person  or  place  of  import- 
ance, or  returning  from  them  ;  nobody  could  inveigle 
him  into  stopping  for  a  chat. 

I  never  think  of  Colonel  Ardagh,  as  he  was  in  those 
days,  without  picturing  him  wrestling  with  his  eye- 
glass; when  not  to  be  found  he  was  lost.  It  had  an 
aggravating  way  of  hiding  itself,  or  becoming  twiddled 
up  amongst  his  buttons,  being  retrieved  as  often  as 
not  from  dangling  down  his  neck. 

I  have  been  told,  at  the  Battle  of  Gunnis  he  was 
busily  engaged  discussing  the  situation  with  General 
Grenfell  while  looking  through  a  telescope,  their  heads 
just  appearing  above  a  rock,  when  a  bullet  passed 
through  his  helmet,  hurting  his  ear  and  making  him 
deaf  for  a  short  time.  The  first  thing  he  thought  of 
was  his  precious  eye-glass,  and  he  began  searching 
fiercely  and  desperately  for  it,  finding  the  evasive 
monocle  hanging  down  his  back.  He  was  then  quite 
happy,  poked  his  finger  into  the  hole  in  his  helmet  to 
see  the  extent  of  the  damage,  and  continued  his  work 
at  the  telescope. 

Writing  of  eye-glasses  reminds  me  of  a  story  General 
Ardagh  told  me  of  General  Dormer,  at  one  time  on  the 
same  staff  with  him.  Perhaps,  as  there  are  several 
well-known  Dormers,  I  had  better  give  his  full  title. 
General  the  Hon.  James  Charlemagne  Dormer,  known 
amongst  his  friends  as  General  Jim.  Some  bumptious 
boastful  soldiers  of  the  Mahdi  were  relating  before 
General  Jim  all  the  wonderful  things  their  chief  could 
do.  He  listened  for  some  time  as  though  much 
impressed,  then  quickly  unhitched  his  glass  eye, 
threw  it  up  in  the  air  and  popped  it  back  again  in  its 
p 


226     MEMORIES  DISCREET  AND  INDISCREET 

accustomed   place,    saying,    *'  Your   Madhi   can't   do 
that  !  "    They  were  subdued,  for  indeed  he  could  not. 

When  General  Valentine  Baker  was  with  the  Turks 
in  1878,  throwing  up  defence  works  south  of  Constanti- 
nople, Colonel  Ardagh  was  one  of  the  many  friends 
who  paid  him  a  visit,  being  at  that  time  on  the 
Bulgarian  Boundary  Commission.  He  travelled  over 
much  the  same  ground  that  is  being  fought  over 
to-day  ;  and  shared  his  tent  with  a  Captain  Cherm- 
side,  who  was  working  on  the  Commission  with  him. 
All  went  well  save  that  their  servant  cooked  so  badly 
Colonel  Ardagh  felt  something  must  be  done,  so  said 
he  would  enquire  into  matters  and  try  to  improve 
them.  I  fear  his  stable  companion  was  rather  un- 
grateful as  this  is  what  he  wrote  : 

"  There  was  a  gay  Captain  called  Ardagh, 
Who  kept  a  sharp  eye  on  the  larder ; 
When  his  servant  was  late 
Him  he  soundly  did  rate, 
When  too  early  he  swore  at  him  harder." 

Colonel  Ardagh  was  in  command  of  the  Royal 
Engineers  and  in  charge  of  the  Water  Works  at 
Ramleh,  near  Alexandria,  when  I  was  out  there  in 
1882.  They  were  stirring  times ;  I  believe  I  was  the 
first  woman  in  Alexandria  after  the  bombardment. 
The  place  was  still  smoking,  the  chief  thoroughfares 
strewn  with  stones  and  debris  of  every  description, 
guns,  ramrods,  barrels,  ladders  and  many  other  less 
pleasant  sights.  A  number  of  people  were  searching 
about  amongst  the  ruins,  Greeks  and  Asiatics  chiefly. 
I  was  being  taken  by  a  doctor  to  visit  a  dying  relative 
and  was  conducted  into  what  had  once  been  an  hotel, 
but  was  then  a  very  uncertain  and  unsafe-looking 
ruin.  A  Greek  vendor  of  drinks  had  established  him- 
self with  a  tray  balanced  on  heaped-up  stones,  and 
was  selling  sherbet.  I  indulged  in  some  of  this  while 
waiting  for  the  doctor  to  make  the  necessary  arrange- 
ments for  me,  but  I  did  not  care  for  the  look  of  either 
the  vendor  or  some  of  his  customers. 

The  room  where  I  waited  was  open  to  the  sky  and 


SOME  GENERALS. AND  BATTLES        227 

the  walls  bore  evidence  of  the  bombardment.  I  was 
standing  drinking  my  sherbet  near  what  I  presumed 
had  once  been  a  window,  when  an  officer  came  clanking 
by  on  a  handsome  grey  Arab.  When  he  saw  me  he 
told  me  it  was  not  safe  for  me  to  be  in  Alexandria  and 
still  less  to  stand  amidst  the  ruins.  I  was  proceeding 
to  explain  my  errand  when  suddenly  close  to  where  I 
stood  came  a  sisse-ping,  sisse-ping  from  a  rifle  bullet. 
The  Greek  seized  his  tray  and  fled,  his  customers  all 
tumbling  over  one  another  in  haste  to  escape;  the 
officer  on  the  Arab  jumped  off  and  flung  the  reins  in 
my  direction,  saying,  **  Somebody  hold  this  horse  "  ;  the 
only  somebody  left  being  me  I  made  a  snatch  at  them, 
succeeding  in  catching  the  curb  rein.  This,  and  the 
noise  of  firing  and  shouting  upset  the  beast  and  he 
proceeded  to  back  violently,  dragging  me  along  with 
him,  my  feet  planted  firmly,  and  holding  back,  but 
being  scuffled  along  in  the  wake  of  my  backing  charger, 
its  owner  having  disappeared  in  the  direction  of  the 
firing  and  shouting.  Once  when  near  a  low  wall  I  tried 
to  mount,  but  it  was  impossible,  and  I  was  dragged 
nearly  down  to  the  quay.  I  tried  giving  him  his  head, 
but  then  he  only  twisted  round  and  tried  to  get  away ; 
a  number  of  people  were  running  past  me,  but  all  too 
intent  on  either  seeing  what  the  row  was,  or  running 
away,  to  stop  and  help  me. 

Just  when  I  was  thinking  I  should  have  to  give  in, 
I  heard  a  horse  galloping  behind  me,  and  up  rode 
Colonel  Ardagh.  He  could  not  stop  to  talk,  but  took 
the  reins  from  me  and  carried  off  the  Arab  with  him, 
telling  me  hurriedly  that  there  had  been  a  little  row  as 
some  of  the  enemy  had  been  hiding  in  the  ruins  and 
had  shot  an  English  soldier  and  everybody  had  gone  in 
pursuit — apparently.  I  made  my  way  back  to  my 
ruins  to  wait  for  the  doctor,  who  arrived  shortly,  and 
took  me  on  board  the  Carthage,  a  hospital-ship  that 
had  been  a  P.  &  O.  boat,  now  painted  white  with  the 
Red  Cross  emblem.  I  tried  to  find  out  later  whose 
horse  had  given  me  this  exhausting  experience. 
Colonel  Ardagh  said  it   was  an  Arab   belonging  to 


228     MEMORIES  DISCREET  AND  INDISCREET 

Colonel  Crealock.  It  may  have  been  his  Arab,  but 
certainly  the  man  who  had  been  riding  it  was  not 
Colonel  Crealock,  because  I  knew  him  well. 

Someone  else  said  it  was  Colonel  Barrington  Foote's 
mount,  and  he  was  doing  galloper  to  somebody,  I 
forget  who;  that  again  was  a  mistake,  for  I  knew 
Colonel  Barrington  Foote  and  he  was  not  the  man. 

During  the  bombardment  a  lady  and  her  daughter, 
whose  name  I  never  heard,  hid  in  the  lighthouse  at  the 
mouth  of  the  harbour  for  two  days  and  nights,  too 
frightened  to  come  out.  It  was  not  a  very  safe  place, 
and  although  only  one  shot  actually  hit  the  upper 
part  of  the  tower,  the  walls  at  the  base  got  a  good  deal 
knocked  about. 

The  looting  and  murder  at  this  time  was  con- 
siderable, but  Lord  Beresford  soon  put  an  end  to  that, 
giving  notice  that  anybody  caught  at  it  red-handed 
would  at  once  be  shot.  Numbers  were  caught  red- 
handed,  tried  and  shot,  being  made  to  dig  their  own 
graves  and  then  stand  in  them  while  shot. 

When  next  I  heard  of  Colonel  Ardagh  he  was 
working  hard  on  the  little  single  line  of  railway 
running  between  Ismailia  and  Cairo,  endeavouring  to 
repair  the  damage  done  to  the  line  during  the  battle  of 
Tel-el-Kebir,  which  had  been  fought  over  it,  the 
railway  departments  having  been  decimated  with  the 
sun,  not  a  thing  to  be  trifled  with  in  Egypt  during  the 
months  of  August  and  September.  At  all  cost  the 
railway  had  to  be  kept  in  working  order  to  keep  the 
army  in  touch  with  head-quarters,  also  the  advance 
from  Ismailia  depended  on  it.  The  line  was  entirely 
broken  up  in  places,  and  what  was  so  harassing  for 
Colonel  Ardagh  was  the  lack  of  mending  material. 
When  he  thought  he  had  succeeded  in  concocting 
something  that  would  suffice,  the  heavy  engines  and 
laden  trucks  were  too  heavy  for  it.  Thanks  to  his 
ingenuity  and  hard  work  it  was  patched  up,  and 
Colonel  Ardagh  drove  the  trains  himself  at  one  time 
when  all  other  helpers  failed. 

Here  again  I  believe  I  was  the  first  woman  to  travel 


SOME  GENERALS  AND  BATTLES        229 

over  that  line  after  the  battle  of  Tel-el-Kebir.  We 
had  to  move  very  slowly  for  fear  of  kicking  up  the 
temporary  lines,  and  I  had  plenty  of  time  to  see  where 
the  battle  had  been  fiercest.  The  ground  was  still 
littered  with  dead  beasts,  gun-carriage  wheels  and  all 
the  sad  sights  of  a  battlefield,  the  little  sand  fortifica- 
tions behind  which  brave  men  had  done  their  bit  and 
died,  all  was  still  eloquent  of  the  great  struggle. 
I  have  passed  along  that  same  line  since,  and  close  up 
beside  it  stands  lone,  yet  peaceful,  a  little  cemetery 
packed  with  white  crosses  where  those  who  fell  at 
Tel-el-Kebir  are  buried.  Anyone  in  the  train  can 
plainly  see  them  silhouetted  against  the  miles  of  sand. 

Colonel  Ardagh  told  me  that  one  of  the  most  trying 
times  of  his  life  and  one  that  told  considerably  on  his 
health,  was  when  in  command  of  the  base  of  the  Nile 
Expedition.  His  duties  and  responsibilities  were 
multitudinous,  added  to  which,  when  Lord  Wolseley 
arrived  with  a  large  staff,  the  officers  already  out  there 
resented  having  their  noses  put  out  of  joint  and  there 
was  a  good  deal  of  friction.  Some  of  those  already 
there  declined  to  help  or  work  with  the  latest  arrivals, 
until  Colonel  Ardagh  succeeded  in  smoothing  things 
over.  He  set  a  wonderful  example  of  unselfishness  and 
disinterestedness. 

Some  of  the  telegrams  he  received  in  the  course  of 
one  day  gives  a  fair  idea  of  the  comprehensiveness  of 
his  work.  One  asked  for  two  hundred  camels  at  the 
earliest  possible  moment,  followed  closely  by  demands 
for  Swiss  milk,  blankets  and  coffins.  Then  came  a 
note  from  Sir  Evelyn  Baring  saying  could  he  spare 
a  few  minutes  as  he  particularly  wished  to  speak  to 
him  ?  Could  he  collect  all  the  things  necessary  and 
make  the  arrangements  for  Mr.  PortaFs  Mission  that 
was  under  consideration  ?  Yet,  not  only  did  I 
notice,  but  several  times  had  it  remarked  to  me,  that 
Colonel  Ardagh  was  never  even  impatient,  or  answered 
irritably.  He  was  not  a  man  of  many  words  at  any 
time,  and  never  other  than  courteous. 

I  cannot  pass  on  from  this  Nile  Expedition  to  the 


230     MEMORIES  DISCREET  AND  INDISCREET 

rest  of  my  memories  of  Colonel  Ardagh  without 
mentioning  an  account  Mr.  Ingram  gave  me  of  his 
endeavours  to  shoot  the  cataracts,  for  it  was  thrilling. 
I  gathered  that  he  had  come  out  to  see  some  of  the 
fun  !  and  joined  Mr.  Prior,  who  was  on  the  paper 
belonging  to  his  family  (The  Illustrated  London  News). 
He  had  brought  out  some  patent  sort  of  steam  launch 
with  him,  but  it  was  not  a  success,  therefore  he  and  Mr. 
Prior  decided  to  travel  up  the  Nile  in  a  dahabieh,  in 
the  same  fashion  as  the  troops  were  doing. 

On  nearing  the  first  great  shoot  of  cataract  about 
fifty  feet  wide,  the  water  travelling  at  the  rate  of 
fifteen  miles  an  hour,  he  and  his  companion  rowed 
hard  up  to  the  shoot,  then  before  they  knew  what  was 
happening  found  they  were  swept  along  with  the 
rushing  water,  dashed  past  a  huge  rock,  expecting  to 
be  smashed  to  pieces  but  just  missed  it,  being  hurried 
along  in  their  dahabieh,  then  an  awful  plunge  under 
water,  and  they  thought  this  must  be  the  end,  but 
found  themselves  spinning  round  in  a  whirlpool. 

It  seems  strange  that  the  guides  down  these  rapids 
who  must  know  every  current  are  not  able  to  manage 
better,  the  bumps  the  boats  get  are  enough  to  knock 
them  to  pieces. 

Mr.  Ingram  also  told  me  a  story  of  Lord  Wolseley 
while  journeying  up  with  the  relief  force.  He  was 
riding  a  prize  camel,  which  had  been  presented  to  him 
by  the  Khedive.  The  animal  being  a  little  above  itself 
from  mimosa  or  some  such  dainty,  took  the  oppor- 
tunity to  unship  its  rider  in  full  view  of  a  number  of 
the  troops  and  Mr.  Melton  Prior.  His  Lordship  was  in 
an  agony  of  mind  thinking  the  next  Illustrated  London 
News  would  have  a  picture  of  the  incident.  Mr.  Prior 
ran  to  his  assistance  and  while  helping  him  up  remarked 
under  his  breath,  "  I  did  not  see  it  happen,  sir." 

''  Thank  you,  Mr.  Prior,"  replied  Lord  Wolseley, 
laughing. 

Colonel  Ardagh  was  a  man  of  many  parts  :  at  one 
time  working  in  the  Foreign  Office  in  London,  at 
another  sitting  on  a  Commission  for  the  reform  of  the 


^ 


SLSAN    COUMKSS    OF   MAI.MKSHURY— LADY   ARDAGH 


SOME  GENERALS  AND  BATTLES       231 

system  of  weights  and  measures  in  Cairo — on  the 
Viceregal  Staff  in  India — Secretary  to  Lord  Lansdowne 
— A.D.C.  to  the  Duke  of  Cambridge — Director  of 
Military  Intelligence  at  Home.  During  the  first  few 
years  he  held  the  latter  post,  he  had  what  must  surely 
be  the  unique  experience,  of  advising  the  Government 
on  no  less  than  thirty  wars  and  expeditions  under- 
taken by  the  Foreign  and  Colonial  Offices. 

In  1896  he  married  Susan,  Countess  of  Malmesbury, 
widow  of  the  third  Earl ;  they  had  known  one  another 
for  many  years  though  he  was  considerably  older  than 
his  bride.  The  announcement  took  us  all  by  surprise, 
we  had  begun  to  look  upon  Colonel  Ardagh  as  a 
confirmed  bachelor ;  he  was  now  Sir  John  by  the  way, 
having  been  made  K.C.I.E.  on  leaving  India  and  the 
Viceroy's  Staff  in  1894. 

Once  when  the  Duke  of  Cambridge  was  having 
luncheon  with  us  in  Paris,  Colonel  Ardagh  was  among 
the  guests  we  had  invited  to  meet  him ;  he  was  suffering 
from  a  bad  cold,  and  the  Duke  told  him  he  ought  to 
have  a  wife  to  take  care  of  him,  teasing  him  about  the 
number  of  ladies  anxious  to  become  Lady  Ardagh 
and  finally  wound  up  with  the  question,  ''  Why  don't 
you  marry  ?  " 

**  Because  nobody  will  have  me,  sir,*'  replied  Sir 
John.  We  were  rather  amused,  knowing  well  he  had 
given  nobody  the  chance.  We  also  thought  we  knew 
one  or  two  who  would  not  have  said  him  **  Nay." 

At  the  Hague  Conference  in  1899,  when  the  Queen 
of  Holland  invited  the  twenty-six  powers  to  meet  at 
the  *'  House  in  the  Wood  ''  at  the  Hague,  Sir  John  was 
selected  to  represent  England  as  Military  Technical 
Adviser.  It  is  interesting  to  remember  that  amongst 
the  subjects  under  discussion  was  the  forbidding  of 
the  use  of  submarine  torpedo  boats,  and  the  throwing 
of  bombs  from  balloons  during  wars  ! 

Lady  Ardagh  thinks  that  what  killed  her  husband 
was  the  South  African  War.  He  was  at  the  time  head 
of  the  Military  Intelhgence  Department.  The  work 
was  overwhelming  and  yet  with  his  usual  unselfishness 


232     MEMORIES  DISCREET  AND  INDISCREET 

he  allowed  most  of  his  Staff  to  go  out  to  South  Africa, 
and  struggled  on  with  the  work  surrounded  with  men 
more  or  less  strangers  to  the  subjects  to  be  dealt  with. 
Then  followed  what  so  often  seems  to  overtake  men 
who  have  given  the  best  years  of  their  lives  to  the 
service  of  their  country,  blame  and  abuse  for  other 
people's  slackness  and  mistakes.  The  usual  cry  of  it 
being  all  the  fault  of  the  Intelligence  Department  that 
we  met  with  reverses,  that  Sir  John  had  not  told  the 
Government  how  powerful  the  enemy  was  or  that  guns 
were  being  taken  into  the  country  in  piano  cases,  etc. 

The  victim  of  these  injustices  made  no  reply,  denied 
none  of  the  charges  hurled  at  him,  thinking  somebody 
other  than  the  real  delinquents  must  bear  the  blame 
and  his  shoulders  would  do  as  well  as  those  of  anybody 
else. 

I  am  glad  to  say  that  Lord  Elgin's  Commission  to 
enquire  into  the  part  played  by  the  Intelligence 
Department  in  connection  with  the  Boer  War  entirely 
exonerated  Sir  John,  and  he  had  the  satisfaction  of 
seeing  himself  vindicated. 

I  have  been  told  by  more  than  one  who  worked 
with  Sir  John  that  he  set  them  all  a  magnificent 
example,  that  they  would  have  been  ashamed  to  shirk 
when  he  was  working  morning,  noon  and  night. 
Being  sensitive  himself,  Sir  John  was  most  particular 
not  to  hurt  other  people's  feelings  if  it  could  possibly  be 
avoided,  and  as  he  was  a  busy  man  and  could  not 
afford  to  waste  time,  and  his  work  entailed  seeing  and 
conversing  with  a  number  of  different  people,  he  put 
up  a  notice  in  his  office  printed  in  large  black  letters 
on  a  white  ground  with  this  advice  : 

When  you  visit  a  man  of ' 
Tell  him  quickly  your 
Leave  him  to  his 
Go  about  your  own 

He  found  this  little  notice  answered  admirably  and 
prevented  him  having  to  hurry  people  and  so  throw 
them  out  of  their  stride. 


business. 


SOME  GENERALS  AND  BATTLES        233 

Sir  John  was  much  sought  after  as  arbiter.  Poor 
man,  there  was  hardly  any  subject  he  was  not  called 
upon  to  decide  at  one  time  or  another.  Once  at  Simla 
he  was  asked  to  settle  a  friendly  dispute  over  a  bet 
between  Lord  William  Beresford  and  a  stout  and 
sporting  general.  Lord  William  had  bet  he  would 
carry  the  fifteen-stone  general  from  the  foot  of  the 
hill  below  Government  House  to  the  Club,  a  distance 
of  a  quarter  of  a  mile  or  more ;  the  general  closed  with 
the  bet.  A  small  crowd  of  friends  collected  to  see  the 
show.  Lord  William  arrived  to  the  moment  punctual 
as  usual,  threw  off  his  coat  and  rolled  up  his  sleeves  ; 
the  general  smiled  complacently. 

Lord  W.  :    *'  Now  then,  sir,  are  you  ready  ?  '' 

General :    **  Yes,  and  waiting." 

Lord  W.  :   '*  Then  strip,  please  I  " 

General :    "  Then  what  ?  '' 

Lord  W. :  ''Strip,  please.  I  said  I  would  carry  you, 
I  said  nothing  about  carrying  your  clothes  !  " 

There  was  a  good  deal  of  argument  and  friendly 
banter ;  Lord  Wilham  claimed  he  had  won  his  bet,  as 
the  general  declined  to  strip,  and  Colonel  Ardagh  was 
called  in  to  decide.    The  general  paid. 

Again  in  Cairo  to  his  horror  he  was  asked  to  decide 
a  question  of  precedence  between  two  very  angry 
ladies ;  they  came  to  me  and  I  could  not  help  laughing 
it  was  so  childish.  The  elder  woman's  argument  was 
she  was  much  older  than  the  '*  nothing  but  a  child," 
and  in  addition  to  that  her  husband  was  a  Member 
of  the  Privy  Council,  so  of  course  she  should  go  in  to 
dinner  first.  The  younger  woman  considered  herself 
a  bride  in  the  first  place,  and  in  the  second  her 
husband  was  the  younger  son  of  an  Earl. 

The  discussion  was  taking  place  in  my  private 
sitting-room  at  Shepheard's  Hotel,  the  door  of  the 
room  was  open  and  I  saw  Sir  John,  who  was  then 
Colonel  Ardagh,  go  past  on  his  way  to  consult  a  big-wig 
in  a  room  a  little  further  down  the  corridor,  so  I  called 
him  in  and  asked  him  to  decide.  He  puckered  up  his 
brow  into  many  crinkles  and  listened.     When  the 


234     MEMORIES  DISCREET  AND  INDISCREET 

parties  had  done  talking  (both  at  once),  Sir  John  began 
by  saying  that  in  his  own  private  opinion,  weight 
should  be  allowed  for  age,  and  strongly  advised  the 
"  nothing  but  a  girl ''  not  to  insist  on  going  in  to 
dinner  first  as  in  that  case  she  might  find  herself  told-off 
to  some  old  fogy  like  himself,  for  instance,  instead  of 
some  of  the  younger  and  more  amusing  men.  The  old 
lady  was  pleased  because  she  thought  she  had  won  the 
day,  and  the  young  woman  was  pleased  because  she 
was  amused  at  Sir  John's  way  of  putting  his  views 
and  because  she  had  not  thought  that  of  course  she 
would  be  sure  to  have  elderly  and  dull  people  next  to 
her  at  dinner  if  she  went  in  first. 

Painting  was  Sir  John's  principal  recreation.  I  liked 
to  see  him  with  his  brush,  it  was  a  great  pleasure  to 
him.  I  wondered  when  he  died  in  1907  what  had 
become  of  his  valuable  collection  of  sketches  taken  in 
all  parts  of  the  world.  Lady  Ardagh  now  tells  me  he 
left  nine  hundred  of  them  to  her.  She  gave  a  good 
many  of  them  to  the  Royal  Engineers  as  they  were 
of  harbours  all  over  the  world.  Besides  being  clever 
with  his  brush  he  was  clever  with  his  pen. 


CHAPTER  XVI 

LORD  CROMER  AND  SIR  GERALD  PORTAL 

Lord  Cromer  in  Egypt — In  India — His  Work  and  Difficulties — General 
Gordon  Writes  from  Khartoum — His  Death — Mr.  Portal  and 
Lord  Cromer — Mr.  Portal's  Mission  to  Abyssinia — Experiences 
on  the  Way — Betrayed — Despair — Saved  by  a  Mule's  Sagacity — 
Late  for  Luncheon — How  He  was  Punished — Made  a  K.C.M.G. — 
His  Mission  to  Uganda — Interview  with  Angry  Bishops — Death 
of  Captain  Raymond  Portal — Lady  Alice  Bertie — Sir  Gerald's 
Death. 

IT  was  a  happy  day  for  Egypt  when  the  mantle  of 
its  financial  administration  fell  upon  the  shoulders 
of  Sir  Evelyn  Baring,  afterwards  Lord  Cromer. 
He  was  a  great  financier,  coming  from  ancestors  of 
finance  and  banking  fame,  and  Egypt's  saviour. 

He  first  showed  his  talents  for  juggUng  with  figures 
in  1858,  at  the  age  of  eighteen,  when  he  joined  the 
Artillery.  The  mess  had  been  in  debt  and  badly 
managed  for  some  time,  and  he  was  asked  to  tackle  it 
and  put  it  on  a  sounder  footing.  This  he  soon  accom- 
plished. How  they  discovered  his  genius  for  finance 
I  do  not  know. 

I  first  met  the  Barings  in  India,  while  Sir  Evelyn 
was  Minister  of  Finance,  I  think  it  was.  He  and  his 
delightful  wife  were  well-known  figures  in  Calcutta  and 
Simla.  Both  were  rather  stout,  and  used  to  eat  the 
air  regularly  on  fine  weight-carrying  cobs. 

I  have  heard  people  say  Sir  Evelyn  was  a  bear,  with 
bearish  manners,  if  so,  I  wish  there  were  more  bears 
like  him.  I  have  always  found  him  courteous  and 
exceedingly  kind,  often  putting  himself  to  great  incon- 
venience to  help  a  friend. 

For  a  young  man  to  attract  the  notice  and  sympathy 
of  Sir  Evelyn  meant  the  making  of  that  young  man, 

235 


236     MEMORIES  DISCREET  AND  INDISCREET 

and  all  his  life  he  proved  himself  a  genius  at  discover- 
ing hard-working  and  clever  people. 

When  first  he  went  to  Egypt  that  country  was  on 
the  verge  of  bankruptcy  and  the  Khedive  in  despair. 
Lord  Cromer  bought  up  the  Khedive's  interests  in  the 
Suez  Canal  for  the  British  Government  at  a  sum  of 
;f 4,000,000  sterling.  But  his  history  is  well  known,  and 
all  the  great  and  comprehensive  work  he  carried  out 
in  the  East. 

After  Hicks  Pasha's  annihilation  with  his  whole 
army  made  up  of  funks  and  miserable  material,  in 
which  I  think  he  had  no  real  faith,  much  of  Sir  Evelyn's 
time  was  taken  up  in  arranging  the  abandonment  of 
the  Soudan,  which  another  administrator  spent  more 
time  in  regaining. 

A  few  years  ago,  when  advertising  for  a  butler, 
amongst  the  answers  which  I  received  was  one  signed 
Hicks,  and  purporting  to  be  from  the  Pasha's  son.  If 
this  was  true,  which  I  think  it  may  have  been,  for  the 
writing  and  diction  were  good,  it  seems  a  scandal. 

Many  unkind  and  some  unjust  aspersions  have  been 
levied  at  Sir  Evelyn  in  connection  with  the  relief  of 
Gordon.  It  has  even  been  suggested  he  was  a  party 
to  leaving  him  to  his  fate  in  Khartoum.  I  happen  to 
have  known  intimately  several  people  in  a  position  to 
explain  to  me  the  entire  situation.  Sir  Evelyn's  views, 
and  his  difficulties.  While  all  must,  and  have,  bitterly 
regretted  the  lovable  fanatic's  death  under  such  tragic 
circumstances,  it  should  be  borne  in  mind  that  Charles 
Gordon  had  always  been  difficult  to  work  with,  and 
at  all  times  impatient  of  control.  When  asked  by  the 
English  Government  to  go  out  in  1884  to  try  and  ex- 
tricate the  Egyptian  garrison  from  the  hands  of  the 
revolting  natives,  and  proclaim  the  separation  of  the 
country  from  Egyptian  rule,  he  was  so  certain  of  his 
power  over  the  Soudanese  that  he  would  hardly  listen 
to  any  suggestions  of  possible  difficulties.  He  felt 
sure  he  had  only  to  reappear  in  the  Soudan  and  the 
followers  of  the  Mahdi  would  rally  round  him  gladly. 
Again,  when  leaving  Cairo  for  Khartoum,  he  wished 


LORD    CROMER 


Photograph  by  Russell 


LORD  CROMER  AND  SIR  GERALD  PORTAL  237 

Sir  Evelyn  Baring  to  allow  him  to  take  Zebehr  Pasha 
with  him,  the  man  having  been  virtually  a  prisoner  in 
Cairo  for  some  time  as  a  notorious  slave-dealer  in  the 
Soudanese  traffic.  It  seems  amazing  that  Gordon 
should  not  have  realised  that  Zebehr  was  not  friendly 
to  him,  considering  Suleiman,  the  man's  own  son,  had 
been  executed  for  revolt  five  years  previously  by 
Gordon's  orders,  and  that  he,  Zebehr,  had  been  de- 
prived of  some  of  his  property  for  complicity.  Sir 
Evelyn  was  much  against  this  man  being  set  free  to 
return  with  Gordon  to  Khartoum. 

Arriving  at  Khartoum  on  February  i8th,  1884, 
Gordon  quickly  changed  his  views,  finding  he  could  no 
longer  influence  the  Soudanese,  and  he  wrote  to  Sir 
Evelyn  Baring  saying  the  Mahdi  must  be  smashed. 
Gordon's  requests  had  to  be  carefully  considered,  as 
his  wishes  and  views  changed  frequently  ;  one  letter 
would  say  he  was  going  to  stand  by  those  who  trusted 
him,  and  nothing  would  persuade  him  to  leave  them, 
a  later  letter  would  be  entirely  personal  and  complain 
bitterly  at  being  left  to  walk  about  day  in  and  day 
out  with  sandled  shoes  like  the  natives,  a  virtual 
prisoner. 

Sir  Evelyn  Baring  had  not  only  to  arrive  at  some 
conclusion  amongst  these  conflicting  letters  as  to  the 
best  thing  to  do,  but  had  the  annoyance  of  having  his 
advice  misconstrued  or  neglected  at  home. 

I  have  always  passionately  wished  poor  Gordon 
could  have  known  how  hard  the  British  Agents  and 
Lord  Kitchener  worked  in  hopes  of  relieving  him,  and 
of  the  desperate  endeavour  of  every  man  in  the  relief 
force  to  hasten  so  as  to  be  in  time.  The  Government 
at  home  was  alone  to  blame  for  what  happened,  and 
to  have  known  this  would  have  been  a  relief  and  a 
happiness  to  poor  bitterly  disappointed  Gordon,  who 
felt  his  friends  were  neglecting  him. 

Even  as  I  write  my  kind  friend  Lord  Cromer  has 
passed  away,  died  practically  in  harness.  The  last 
letter  I  had  from  him,  written  a  few  weeks  before  his 
death,  told  me  he  was  very  busy  over  the  difficult  work 


238     MEMORIES  DISCREET  AND  INDISCREET 

of  the  Dardanelles  Commission,  which  seemed  to  worry 
him  a  good  deal. 

I  have  seen  Lord  Cromer  in  many  different  moods, 
grave,  gay,  inscrutable,  tender  and  affectionate  ;  he 
was  very  homely  and  domestic  in  his  own  house.  When 
his  two  little  sons  were  very  ill  in  Egypt,  he  would 
leave  his  office  and  creep  on  tiptoe  to  the  door  of  the 
sick-room  and  ask  if  the  children  were  any  better, 
and  if  he  could  see  them.  At  that  time  he  was  Sir 
Evelyn  Baring,  and  when  Lady  Baring  came  to  speak 
to  him  and  give  the  latest  bulletin,  he  would  link  his 
arm  in  hers  and  walk  off  with  troubled  face  to  console 
the  anxious  mother,  and  perhaps  find  some  consolation 
himself.  I  never  saw  him  other  than  most  courteous 
and  considerate  to  all  his  family,  no  matter  what 
weighty  matters  were  pressing  for  his  attention. 

He  would  shake  and  wobble  with  laughter  when  any- 
thing tickled  his  fancy.  I  remember  once,  when  I  was 
dining  with  him  and  Lady  Cromer  in  Egypt,  I  was 
endeavouring  to  amuse  Prince  Bliicher  with  polite 
conversation  and  stories,  telling  him  about  some 
Suffragettes  who  had  been  trying  to  blow  up  buildings 
at  Westminster,  and  that  it  was  a  case  of  the  biter  bit, 
as  some  of  them  had  been  blown  up  themselves ;  adding 
that  one  who  had  ascended  with  her  usual  garments, 
came  back  to  mother  earth  not  much  the  worse,  but 
minus  her  flannel  petticoat.  Not  being  able  to  speak 
a  word  of  German,  I  was  doing  my  best  in  French,  and 
trying  to  think  of  some  delicate  way  of  mentioning  the 
inoffensive  article  which  in  bald  English  sounds  rather 
crude,  but  would  be  quite  ''  comme  il  faut  "  if  I  could 
only  think  of  some  appropriate  term  in  French. 
Suddenly  I  discovered  Lord  Cromer  had  been  listening 
while  trying  to  converse  with  somebody  on  the  other 
side  of  him  and  he  was  evidently  much  amused,  so  I 
turned  to  him  and  said,  *'Do  tell  me  the  French  for 
flannel  petticoat,  I  can  think  of  nothing  but  jupe  de 
flanelle.'*  He  burst  out  laughing  and  said  he  thought 
that  would  do  quite  nicely. 

Meanwhile  the  Prince,  all  attention  to  hear  what 


LORD  CROMER  AND  SIR  GERALD  PORTAL  239 

was  missing  when  the  lady  came  back  from  her  journey 
in  the  air,  had  grasped  the  gist  of  my  story  and  roared 
with  laughter,  thus  attracting  everybody's  attention, 
and  I  wished  I  were  dead.  I  believe  they  all  thought 
I  had  invented  the  story  ;  but  I  had  really  seen  it  in 
the  papers  a  short  time  before.  I  was  a  good  deal 
teased  about  it,  and  for  some  time  afterwards  when- 
ever there  was  a  pause  in  the  conversation  I  was  asked 
to  tell  one  of  my  funny  stories  ! 

Prince  Bliicher  was  a  fine  well-groomed  man  with 
dark  hair,  heavily-marked  eyebrows  and  rather 
squarely  and  closely  trimmed  beard,  bright  brown 
eyes,  courtly  manner,  and  polished  address.  Natur- 
ally I  liked  him,  for  when  I  apologised  for  my  halting 
French,  he  told  me  it  was  perfect,  and  it  was  a  very 
long  time  since  he  had  met  so  pleasant  and  amusing 
a  lady.  The  least  I  could  do  after  that  was  to  admire 
him. 

With  a  merry  twinkle  in  his  eye  he  said  he  had  been 
wondering  which  garment  had  been  left  in  mid-air  ; 
and  when  I  asked  him  how  he  accounted  for  the  dis- 
appearance of  *'  la  jupe  ''  he  said  he  was  unable  to 
assist  me,  as  in  his  country  they  did  not  have  *'^es 
femmes  obstinees,"  and  if  they  did  would  certainly 
shortly  be  wearing  ''  la  camisole  de  force  !  "  I  said  I 
was  shocked,  it  was  worse  than  my  talking  of  *'  la  jupe." 

The  Prince  was  much  interested  in  the  Egyptian 
Gendarmerie,  and  asked  me  many  questions  about 
them.  I  told  him  General  Valentine  Baker  and 
Colonel  George  Harvey  had  been  the  making  of  them. 
He  said  he  had  watched  the  career  of  General  Baker, 
adding,  **  Wonderful  man,  wonderful  man.  Any 
country  would  be  proud  of  him." 

Amongst  the  many  people  who  have  Lord  Cromer 
to  thank  for  making  them,  perhaps  Mr.  Portal  owed 
him  the  largest  debt  of  gratitude,  for  he  was  treated 
like  a  son. 

Handsome,  plucky,  genial  Gerry,  at  home  every- 
where, and  liked  by  all.  For  nearly  eight  years  he  had 
helped  Lord  Cromer  and  was  full  of  pride  at  being  left 


240     MEMORIES  DISCREET  AND  INDISCREET 

in  entire  charge  for  a  few  weeks  during  Lord  Cromer's 
absence  in  1886-7.  While  full  of  fun  and  jokes  at  his 
own  importance  in  connection  with  it,  he  conducted 
affairs  with  considerable  credit,  Lord  Cromer  told  me. 

Lord  SaHsbury  asked  the  British  Agent  in  1887  to 
recommend  someone  to  him  to  carry  out  a  special 
Mission  to  Abyssinia  with  a  view  to  smoothing  over  a 
difference  of  opinion  between  King  Johannes  and 
the  Italian  Government  regarding  the  occupation  of 
Massowah.  He  appointed  Mr.  Portal,  who  was  over- 
joyed at  being  given  such  an  opportunity.  The  fact 
that  another  mission  had  undertaken  the  same  journey 
about  twenty  years  before  and  it  had  taken  ten 
thousand  men  two  years  later  to  rescue  them,  did  not 
damp  Mr.  PortaFs  spirits,  for  he  loved  adventure  and 
responsibility  and  was  full  of  pride  at  having  a  chance 
of  showing  what  he  could  do. 

It  was  while  on  this  mission  that  he  nearly  died 
from  thirst.  I  made  him  tell  me  the  whole  story  from 
beginning  to  end,  it  was  so  wonderful  that  he  lived 
through  such  an  experience. 

Briefly  it  was  thus  : 

Having  received  instructions  from  Lord  Cromer  to 
reach  King  Johannes  with  all  possible  dispatch  before 
any  fresh  complications  arose,  he  at  once  set  to  work 
and  collected  all  the  necessary  impedimenta,  tents, 
mules,  drivers,  guides,  interpreter,  and  all  the  hundred 
and  one  things  necessary  on  expeditions  of  the  kind. 

The  only  other  Englishmen  of  the  party  were  Mr. 
Beech,  a  friend  of  Mr.  Portal's,  at  that  time  in  Cairo, 
and  his  own  English  servant  named  Hutchinson,  who 
was  most  anxious  to  accompany  his  master. 

All  went  fairly  well  until  they  left  Massowah  and 
the  hospitable  ItaUans  ;  then  the  real  work  began, 
and  it  was  not  long  before  difficulties  arose.  The  mule 
drivers,  six  in  number  to  twelve  mules,  either  pre- 
tended they  could  not  load  the  animals  properly,  or 
were  really  useless,  and  the  hard  work  fell  upon  the 
shoulders  of  the  three  Englishmen.  The  interpreter 
turned  sulky,  and  Mr.  Portal  had  grounds  for  being 


SIR   GERALD    PORTAL 


LORD  CROMER  AND  SIR  GERALD  PORTAL  241 

dissatisfied  with  the  two  drivers  whom  it  had  been 
arranged  were  to  act  as  guides. 

These  latter  had  promised  to  lead  the  party  to  a 
place  where  water  would  be  found  before  nightfall. 
Night  came  but  no  water,  and  the  guides  confessed 
they  had  been  mistaken,  but  a  few  miles  further  on 
they  knew  of  plenty.  The  sun  had  been  painfully  hot, 
their  faces,  feet,  and  hands  were  bhstered,  and  the 
animals  much  distressed.  They  journeyed  a  few  miles 
further,  but  were  again  disappointed,  for  there  was  no 
water.  Mr.  Portal  decided  it  would  not  be  possible  to 
go  on  without  a  rest,  so  gave  orders  for  the  water  they 
had  brought  with  them  to  be  used,  only  to  find  this 
had  either  been  already  used  or  thrown  away. 

There  was  nothing  to  be  done  but  make  all  lie  down 
and  rest  for  a  few  hours  and  then  march  again,  when 
it  was  hoped  they  would  reach  Baresa  about  6  a.m., 
where  Mr.  Portal  knew  there  was  water. 

All  were  soon  asleep  with  the  exception  of  poor 
Gerry,  who  sat  up  and  watched,  being  too  worried  and 
anxious  to  sleep. 

At  this  juncture  in  the  story  I  asked  Mr.  Portal  why 
he  did  not  return  to  Massowah  and  get  more  reliable 
guides,  as  it  was  evident  they  were  treacherous,  and  I 
asked  if  it  would  not  have  been  a  good  plan  to  make 
the  new  ones  deposit  some  valuables,  such  as  weapons 
or  wives,  as  security  for  their  good  behaviour.  He 
repHed  it  would  never  have  done  for  him  to  turn  back 
at  each  difficulty,  and  he  doubted  if  loss  of  wives  or 
weapons  would  have  influenced  them  much.  The  only 
thing  to  do  was  to  go  ahead  and  make  the  most  of 
valuable  time. 

The  second  day's  march  was  worse,  far  worse,  than 
the  first,  for  in  addition  to  the  heat  the  country  was 
almost  impassable,  the  horses  and  mules  kept  shpping 
down  precipitous  rocks  and  had  to  be  rescued  and 
loaded  up  afresh,  the  heat  when  they  started  again 
being  100°  Fahrenheit  though  not  yet  daylight.  The 
Enghshmen  walked  to  save  the  horses  a  little.  Six 
o'clock  arrived,  but  there  was  no  sign  of  Baresa  and 

Q 


242     MEMORIES  DISCREET  AND  INDISCREET 

of  course  no  water.  Mr.  Portal  now  stopped  the 
caravan  and  decided  to  go  alone  with  one  of  the  guides, 
who  swore  he  could  find  water  a  little  further  ahead. 

After  travelling  about  four  miles  the  guide  suddenly 
dashed  off  into  the  scrub  and  disappeared. 

There  was  no  longer  any  doubt  about  the  man's 
treachery.  Mr.  Portal  said  he  felt  sadly  discouraged 
and  lonely,  and  tried  to  retrace  his  steps  and  rejoin 
the  rest  of  the  party.  This  did  not  prove  easy,  as 
some  of  the  ground  being  rocky  there  were  no  foot- 
marks left  as  a  guide,  and  all  the  mountains  surround- 
ing him  looked  so  much  alike.  After  plodding  along 
wondering  if  he  was  going  in  the  right  direction  or 
away  from  it  he  saw  someone  waving  to  him,  and  heard 
shouting  from  one  of  the  mountain-tops ;  it  proved  to  be 
his  friend  Mr.  Beech,  who  with  his  field-glasses  had 
been  watching  for  him  all  the  time  after  he  left,  feeling 
nervous  on  his  account.  On  rejoining  his  party  the 
rest  of  the  men  ran  away.  A  consultation  was  then 
held  as  to  what  was  the  best  thing  to  do. 

Mr.  Portal,  who  had  been  marching  since  midnight 
without  food  or  water  and  had  had  none  the  day  before, 
was  suffering  great  pain  from  thirst ;  they  all  felt  very 
ill  but  they  decided  to  unload  the  mules,  leave  every- 
thing where  it  was,  and  try  and  find  their  way  back  to 
Massowah.  The  animals  relieved  of  their  burdens 
would  be  sure  to  follow.  So  they  began  another  weary 
march  in  perfect  silence,  for  speaking  was  painful  and 
they  could  not  raise  their  voices  above  a  whisper  ; 
their  tongues  were  swollen,  lips  black,  eyes  staring  and 
figures  bent. 

After  some  hours  of  this  agonising  tramping 
Hutchinson  became  so  very  ill,  it  was  necessary  to 
halt  until  the  paroxysm  was  over.  Then  it  seemed 
almost  more  than  they  could  do  to  start  again,  all 
wished  to  lie  down  where  they  were  and  die,  but  they 
made  a  great  struggle.  Mr.  Portal  was  by  no  means 
satisfied  that  they  were  on  the  right  track  and  doubted 
their  seeing  another  day's  sun.  He  also  expected  at  any 
moment  the  men  who  had  run  away,  might  return 


LORD  CROMER  AND  SIR  GERALD  PORTAL  243 

bringing  others  with  them  and  murder  the  whole  of 
the  Mission. 

By  his  pocket  thermometer  the  temperature  regis- 
tered 108°  in  the  shade.  Now  to  his  inexpressible 
relief  he  found  they  were  on  the  right  track ;  this  was 
proved  by  the  intelligence  of  one  of  the  mules,  which 
he  observed  now  jogging  along  in  front  of  them  with 
nose  to  ground  and  ears  cocked,  evidently  scenting 
their  former  tracks  and  knew  they  would  lead  him  to 
water,  other  mules,  horses  and  comfort. 

All  recognised  the  mule's  leadership,  and  Mr.  Portal 
was  thankful  to  be  relieved  of  that  responsibility. 
At  sunset  they  found  themselves  once  more  in  sight 
of  the  Italian  forts.  All  were  unable  to  speak,  but  the 
Italians  saw  at  once  what  was  the  matter  and  attended 
to  their  needs.  A  kind  doctor  sat  up  all  night  pouring 
cold  water  over  Mr.  PortaFs  head  and  bathing  his 
body. 

All  agreed  it  was  the  mule  who  saved  their  lives,  and 
Mr.  Portal  said  he  made  it  his  business  to  see  it  had 
*'  all  the  corn  in  Egypt  for  a  reward.'' 

Next  day  in  spite  of  feehng  very  ill  Mr.  Portal 
started  off  again  to  find  the  baggage  and  presents  he 
had  unloaded  from  the  mules.  The  latter  were  sent 
by  the  Queen  to  King  Johannes  and  naturally  Mr. 
Portal  was  anxious  about  them.  He  found  all  as  he  had 
left  them  with  the  exception  of  some  ammunition, 
and  so  continued  his  journey  with  fresh  mules  and 
men. 

After  many  more  thrilling  adventures  he  reached  the 
King  who,  while  being  very  civil,  would  give  no 
definite  answer  as  to  his  future  conduct,  so  Mr.  Portal 
had  to  return  without  having  the  satisfaction  and 
pride  of  having  accomplished  the  object  of  his  mission, 
but  with  a  considerably  enhanced  reputation  for  pluck 
and  determination.  He  was  made  a  C.B.  in  recog- 
nition of  his  efforts.  King  John  was  killed  later 
at  the  battle  of  Metemmeh. 

Mr.  Portal  then  returned  to  his  duties  at  Cairo,  being 
Charge  d'affaires  in  the  autumn  of  1888.    His  character 


244     MEMORIES  DISCREET  AND  INDISCREET 

was  a  curious  mixture  of  dignity  and  gaiety,  full  of 
natural  humour,  though  the  latter  was  at  times 
tinged  with  irony.  Nothing  ever  seemed  to  oppress 
him,  not  even  his  finances,  which  were  often  somewhat 
straitened.  He  told  me  he  was  always  hard-up,  but 
never  felt  really  badly  off  unless  the  interest  on  the 
money  borrowed  exceeded  his  income  !  When  we 
made  him  recount  some  of  his  experiences  he  always 
made  them  appear  ludicrous.  His  knowledge  and 
understanding  of  Eastern  life  and  politics  seemed  to 
come  to  him  instinctively. 

Lord  Cromer  said  he  took  great  pleasure  in  training 
Mr.  Portal,  and  hoped  he  might  some  day  be  his 
successor  in  Egypt.  Undoubtedly  the  turn  in 
fortune's  wheel  that  took  Gerry  to  Cairo  to  work  under 
Sir  Evelyn  Baring  was  the  turning-point  in  his  life. 
Very  early  in  his  diplomatic  career  he  acquired  that 
air  peculiar  to  the  profession  that  wishes  you  to 
understand,  '*  I  know  a  great  deal,  but  must  not  tell 
you  anything.''  I  used  to  tease  him  about  it.  I  am 
afraid  he  got  a  little  spoilt,  accepting  invitations  and 
then  not  turning  up,  keeping  people  waiting  for 
dinner,  luncheon,  etc.  I  determined  to  bring  home 
this  little  failing  to  him  the  first  opportunity  I  had. 
We  asked  hin  to  luncheon  one  day  before  going  on  to 
Hurlingham.  We  were  only  a  small  intimate  little 
party.  As  usual  Mr.  Portal  was  late.  We  had  been 
prepared  for  this  and  had  given  instructions  a  place 
should  be  laid  at  the  side  table.  After  we  had  been 
seated  at  luncheon  about  ten  minutes  or  a  quarter  of 
an  hour  Mr.  Portal  put  in  an  appearance,  asking,  "  Am 
I  late  ?  "  with  wide-open  eyes  of  innocent  enquiry. 
I  replied,  ''  Yes,  and  as  a  punishment  you  must  sit  at 
the  side  table."  He  enjoyed  the  joke  and  sat  down 
quite  good  and  quiet,  but  would  not  allow  the  servants 
to  remove  anything  from  his  table  ;  as  a  cold  pigeon 
pie,  fruit  salad  and  other  good  things  were  standing 
there  awaiting  our  pleasure,  this  was  disconcerting  ; 
but  he  maintained  they  were  all  his,  and  he  would  not 
have  anything  removed  from  his  table. 


LORD  CROMER  AND  SIR  GERALD  PORTAL  245 

When  we  told  him  if  he  was  sorry  he  might  come 
to  our  table  he  decHned,  saying  he  was  having  a  very 
good  time  where  he  was.  His  was  a  happy  sunny 
nature. 

After  our  Hurlingham  luncheon-party  Gerry  Portal 
said  most  good-temperedly,  '*  I  will  not  forget  your 
wigging." 

From  April  to  November  in  1889  Lord  Cromer  gave 
his  protege  another  opportunity,  allowing  him  to 
become  Consul-General  at  Zanzibar  and,  in  March, 
1891,  permanently  appointed  him  to  the  Agency  there 
under  the  scheme  of  the  British  Protectorate  then 
inaugurated. 

On  arriving  at  his  head-quarters  in  Zanzibar,  Portal 
found  the  Protectorate  was  more  name  than  fact,  the 
Arabs  being  most  anxious  to  reap  all  benefits  of 
protection,  without  the  smallest  understanding  of  its 
reciprocal  obligations.  He  was  keenly  interested  in  his 
work  and  lost  no  time  in  tackling  important  con- 
siderations ;  slavery  being  still  the  order  of  the  day 
amongst  the  populations  under  Mahometan  law. 
Here  he  had  to  watch  the  interests  of  thousands 
incapable  of  looking  after  themselves. 

Writing  to  me  at  that  time  he  said  the  question 
of  obtaining  the  control  of  the  finances  of  the  country 
was  his  first  anxiety.  This  he  managed  successfully, 
built  and  organised  a  post  office,  run  under  English 
management,  placing  the  army  also  under  a  British 
officer.  The  Sultan  became  piqued  and  restive  as  he 
saw  his  power  disappearing,  but  patience  and  infinite 
tact  on  Portal's  part  brought  about  a  successful  issue. 

It  is,  I  think,  remarkable  that  at  the  end  of  the  first 
year's  work  there  was  a  slight  surplus  of  revenue.  In 
the  midst  of  all  this  interesting  work  he  was  called  to 
undertake  the  important  mission  to  Uganda  towards 
the  end  of  1892.  The  death  of  the  Sultan  made  it 
easier  for  other  hands  to  carry  on  what  Mr.  Portal  had 
commenced  at  Zanzibar  on  such  good  foundations. 

For  his  services  in  these  Islands  Mr.  Portal  was  made 
a  K.C.M.G.  and  thus  became  Sir  Gerald  Portal.     A 


246     MEMORIES  DISCREET  AND  INDISCREET 

record  for  such  a  young  man,  Lord  Cromer  and  his 
own  initiative  being  to  thank  for  it. 

When  Sir  Gerald  Portal  came  to  tell  me  he  had 
undertaken  the  mission  to  Uganda,  I  asked  him  to 
take  pity  on  my  ignorance  and  explain  to  me  what  it 
was  all  about.  I  was  amused  at  his  reply,  '^  Mission- 
aries, of  course !  They  are  the  cause  of  half  our  troubles. 
They  will  go  poking  in  where  angels  fear  to  tread,  and 
then  it  is  our  job  to  get  them  safely  home  again.'* 

As  probably  everybody  knows  the  political  situation 
at  that  time,  this  lucid  explanation  will  be  enough  to 
explain  the  state  of  affairs  when  Sir  Gerald  undertook 
the  mission. 

I  asked  my  friend  if  he  had  been  expecting  this 
honour,  for  as  such  he  regarded  it,  and  he  said,  ''  No. 
It  was  quite  unexpected.''  I  remarked  he  looked  very 
happy  over  it  and  he  expressed  his  delight,  but  wished 
he  did  not  have  to  do  everything  in  such  a  rush.  There 
was  so  much  to  do  and  so  little  time  ;  the  journey 
alone  would  take  him  three  weeks  and  he  had  to  buy 
all  his  medical  stores,  articles  for  barter,  beads,  cotton 
stuffs,  coloured  handkerchiefs,  tents,  rope  and  all  the 
many  things  the  want  of  which  might  cause  vexatious 
delay. 

Sir  Gerald  Portal  selected  a  brilliant  staff  to  go  out 
with  him.  Colonel  Rhodes,  D.s.o.,  Royal  Dragoons,  of 
much  distinguished  service.  Major  Roddy  Owen  of 
the  Lancashire  Fusiliers,  one  of  the  best  gentlemen 
riders  of  modern  times,  his  eldest  brother,  Raymond 
Portal,  as  good-looking  and  popular  as  himself,  also 
many  others,  all  with  their  own  particular  work  to  do. 
His  servant,  the  great  Hutchinson,  of  course,  who  had 
shared  his  master's  hardships  in  Abyssinia,  again 
journeyed  with  him. 

One  of  the  things  Sir  Gerald  was  most  proud  of  in 
connection  with  this  mission  was  the  fact  that  with 
this  large  staff,  never  for  one  moment  throughout  the 
long  journey  was  there  anything  but  good-fellowship 
amongst  them  all,  not  even  a  difference  of  opinion  or 
jealous  squabble. 


LORD  CROMER  AND  SIR  GERALD  PORTAL  247 

I  think  a  good  deal  of  the  merit  of  this  must  be 
attributed  to  Sir  Gerald  himself.  He  knew  how  to  be 
cheery  and  hail-fellow-well-met  with  all  his  staff,  yet 
had  a  reserve  and  dignity  of  his  own  not  often  met 
with  in  one  so  young.  He  had  also  a  most  assured 
manner,  and  gave  his  orders  as  though  all  were 
strangers  to  him  and  giving  no  reasons.  Being  a  bom 
diplomatist  he  realised  the  benefit  of  this,  knowing  his 
conclusions  might  be  right  but  his  reasons  wrong. 

Poor  Sir  Gerry  suffered  from  sea-sickness  the  whole 
way  to  Mombasa. 

When  nearing  Uganda,  Major  Roddy  Owen  was 
obliged  to  be  carried  in  a  hammock  slung  on  the 
shoulders  of  native  carriers  in  consequence  of  a  bad  leg  ; 
to  keep  the  sun  off  him,  a  blanket  was  thrown  over  a 
pole  or  stick.  This  gave  rise  to  a  story  that  preceded 
them  to  the  effect  that  the  Commissioner  was  bringing 
a  wife  with  him.  The  whole  of  Uganda  was  full  of 
excitement  to  see  the  lady,  while  the  King  Mwanga 
felt  certain  the  English  Queen  had  sent  him  an  English 
princess,  thinking  she  would  be  a  suitable  present. 

Some  of  the  camp-followers,  native  coolies  or  what- 
ever they  were  called,  were  now  and  then  seized  with 
violent  colic  on  the  march,  for  which  they  threw 
themselves  face  downwards  on  the  ground  while  some 
of  their  brethren  pulled  their  arms  and  legs  violently 
in  opposite  directions,  and  others  walked  up  and  down 
their  backs  to  cure  them.  At  first  this  looked  as  if  it 
called  for  Sir  Gerald's  notice,  but  he  found  it  was  an 
established  custom  and  cure  for  what  they  termed 
**  Tumbo."  In  England  I  think  we  call  the  same 
complaint  tummy-ache,  perhaps  it  originally  came 
from  "  Tumbo." 

The  Commissioner  formed  the  opinion  that  the  King 
Mwanga  was  weak  and  highly  nervous.  When  talking 
he  seized  anybody's  hand  close  to  him  and  squeezed  it. 
Captain  Raymond  Portal  summed  him  up  as  /*  not 
much  count.'' 

The  most  dreaded  of  Sir  Gerald's  tasks,  he  said,  was 
trying   to   arrange    diplomatically   all   the   miserable 


248     MEMORIES  DISCREET  AND  INDISCREET 

religious  quarrels  between  the  Catholic  and  Protestant 
bishops.  He  was  most  anxious  to  get  them  to  come 
to  some  agreement  whereby  the  Catholic  and  Protes- 
tant missionaries  would  no  longer  follow  on  one 
another's  heels  planting  missions  in  the  same  districts, 
with  the  inevitable  result,  war  and  scandal.  Speaking 
of  his  meeting  with  the  two  bishops,  one  named 
Tucker  and  the  other,  whose  name  I  forget,  he  said, 
'*  We  were  at  it  hammer  and  tongs  from  9.30  a.m. 
till  2  p.m."  At  last  after  quarrelling  fiercely  they 
decided  to  let  Sir  Gerald  decide  the  whole  matter  as  he 
seemed  so  just  and  yet  sympathetic.  He  told  them 
plainly  if  he  did  this  they  must  accept  it  as  final.  There 
must  be  no  discussion,  no  more  questioning,  and  he 
should  if  necessary  see  his  ruling  carried  out  by  force. 
He  then  drew  a  map  of  the  territory  he  allocated  to 
each  as  he  considered  it  proper  and  just.  This  he  tried 
to  persuade  them  to  sign,  and  swear  they  would  use 
their  best  endeavours  to  see  the  agreement  peacefully 
carried  out.  Eventually  he  got  them  to  shake  hands 
and  sign  it.  The  way  he  told  this  story  was  very 
amusing,  winding  up  with,  ''  May  I  never  again  be 
shut  up  with  two  angry  bishops  acting  as  diplomatist, 
peace-maker  and  interpreter." 

During  this  mission  Captain  Raymond  Portal  died 
from  sunstroke  and  fever,  nearly  breaking  his 
brother's  heart.  They  were  much  attached  to  one 
another.  I  never  heard  a  soul  say  an  unkind  word  of 
Captain  Portal,  the  high  and  mighty,  the  poor  and 
lowly,  all  loved  him. 

In  November,  1893,  Sir  Gerald  came  home,  having 
accomplished  his  mission,  receiving  congratulations 
from  aU,  very  proud,  pleased  and  happy,  but  his 
health  had  been  undermined  with  all  the  hardships 
of  his  two  missions,  when  he  had  stood  face  to  face 
with  death  more  often  than  falls  to  the  lot  of  a  man  of 
his  years.  While  shooting,  I  think  with  Lord  Rendles- 
ham,  soon  after  his  return,  he  caught  a  chill  which  he 
could  not  throw  off,  fever  set  in  and  his  strength  could 
not  meet  it.    He  died  at  the  early  age  of  thirty-six,  on 


LORD  CROMER  AND  SIR  GERALD  PORTAL  249 

January  24th,  1894,  a  very  short  time  being  allowed 
to  him  in  which  to  enjoy  his  triumph  and  congratula- 
tions. 

Laverstoke  Park,  the  Portals'  home  in  Hampshire,  is 
a  beautiful  old  place.  The  mills  where  the  Bank  of 
England  notes  are  made  lie  close  to  the  main  road. 
The  family  have  the  exclusive  right  to  manufacture 
the  paper  for  those  useful  articles.  Gerry  used  to  say 
that  under  the  circumstances  he  thought  it  a  great 
shame  he  was  not  able  to  have  as  many  as  he  wanted. 

It  was  a  terrible  blow  to  Lady  Charlotte  Portal 
losing  her  boys  Raymond  and  Gerald  so  early  in  their 
lives,  both  men  of  promise,  Gerald  the  younger  of 
actual  achievements.  Lord  Cromer  spoke  of  Gerry's 
death  as  a  loss  to  the  nation,  and  I  know  felt  his 
loss  very  keenly.  Lord  Salisbury  and  Lord  Rosebery 
said  the  country  had  lost  a  valuable  servant. 


CHAPTER  XVII 

A  WAR   correspondent's   STORIES 

Mr.  Melton  Prior — Some  of  His  Stories — What  Knocked  Him  Over — 
Narrow  Escape  from  Being  Drowned — A  Stampede  of  Horses — 
On  Majuba  Hill — The  Prince  Imperial — Nearly  Starved — Mr. 
Cameron  of  The  Standard — Mr.  Prior  Does  a  Sprint — Camels  and 
Their  Character — Father  Stanton  of  St.  Albans — His  Sermons — 
His  Parishioners'  Views. 

I  CANNOT  leave  the  Egyptian  environment 
without  referring  again  to  Mr.  Melton  Prior. 
In  my  mind  I  picture  him  mostly  in  that 
country,  but  indeed  I  seem  to  have  met  him  every- 
where, no  matter  in  what  part  of  the  globe  I  travelled 
there  was  Mr.  Prior  with  his  bald  head,  spectacles, 
cheery  disposition  and  kind  heart.  In  Russia,  South 
Africa,  Burma,  America,  at  Royal  weddings,  here, 
there  and  everywhere. 

Thirty  years  he  worked  for  The  Illustrated  London 
News,  and  during  the  time  of  his  active  service  only 
spent  one  whole  year  at  home.  He  told  me  he  kept 
duplicates  of  everything  for  wear  or  use,  one  lot 
always  stood  ready  packed  in  his  front  hall  so  that  he 
could  start  away  at  a  moment's  notice  for  any  part  of 
the  world. 

What  struck  me  most  when  I  first  met  Mr.  Prior 
was  his  naturalness,  he  spoke  his  mind,  enjoyed  telling 
good  stories  against  himself  and  never  posed.  He  was 
not  at  heart  a  soldier,  hating  battles  and  wars,  they 
never  thrilled  him,  to  use  his  own  words  he  was  '*  in  a 
beastly  funk  "  all  the  time.  Then  indeed  he  must 
have  been  courageous,  for  he  was  in  most,  if  not  all  the 
big  and  little  campaigns  from  Ashanti  in  1873  to  the 
Russo-Japanese  in  1904,  and  with  the  besieged  in 
Ladysmith.     He  told  me  many  times  in  a  battle  he 

250 


Photograph  by  LlUott  &■  Fry 


MR.  mp:lton  prior 


A  WAR  CORRESPONDENT'S  STORIES   251 

vowed  to  himself  it  should  be  his  last,  he  would 
"  sooner  break  stones  on  the  road  ''  than  go  through 
such  alarming  experiences  any  more  ;  yes,  he  would 
certainly  '*  chuck  it  up."  Nevertheless  none  worked 
harder  or  took  more  pride  in  it  than  he  did,  and  no  one 
got  their  work  through  quicker  to  the  paper,  or  stuck 
to  it  more  faithfully. 

He  may  have  had  the  dumps  sometimes,  but  I  never 
saw  him  anything  but  cheerful ;  I  remarked  on  this  to 
him  once,  and  in  his  own  funny  way  he  said,  ''  You 
should  have  seen  me  when  I  lost  my  sketch-book  in 
South  Africa,  I  sat  down  on  the  ground  and  cried." 

The  two  things  that  seem  to  have  made  an  ever- 
lasting impression  on  him  were  the  appaUing  smells  at 
Coomassi  and  the  sights  he  saw  four  months  after  the 
battle  of  Isandlwana  when  he  was  allowed  to  go  over 
the  ground  where  the  battle  was  fought. 

I  asked  if  the  former  of  these  lasting  impressions  had 
been  caused  by  decaying  vegetable  matter,  as  I  had 
met  one  or  two  fairly  powerful  in  the  jungle  in  India 
and  in  marshy  land  in  other  countries.  There  is  a 
certain  moss  that  has  a  most  unpardonable  smell, 
I  have  made  its  acquaintance  several  times  ;  but 
Mr.  Prior  told  me  the  smell  that  *'  knocked  him  over  " 
came  from  the  blood  of  human  beings  killed  in  the 
King's  private  slaughter-house,  kept  entirely  for 
humans.  He  also  assured  me  it  was  a  fact  that  under 
the  palace  there  was  a  dungeon  full  of  men  and 
women  awaiting  their  turn  to  be  sacrificed,  and  that 
when  Sir  Garnet  Wolseley  arrived  and  the  doors  were 
opened  for  the  prisoners  to  go  free,  they  at  first 
declined,  saying,  *'  No,"  they  were  waiting  their  turn 
to  be  killed — evidently  so  accustomed  to  the  idea  it 
had  ceased  to  be  a  terror. 

His  vivid  impressions  of  Isandlwana  were  gathered 
four  months  after  the  battle  when  General  Newdigate 
gave  him  permission  to  revisit  the  scene  of  that 
disaster.  Mr.  Prior  could  hardly  bear  to  talk  about  it 
and  assured  me  at  the  time  it  quite  unnerved  him. 
There  still  lay  the  skeletons  of  the  battalion  of  the  24th 


252     MEMORIES  DISCREET  AND  INDISCREET 

Regiment,  the  ground  still  strewn  with  the  tender 
things  that  means  the  last  straw  to  the  beholder  who 
cares. 

I  wonder  what  Mr.  Prior  would  have  to  tell  us  if  he 
was  with  our  troops  now  in  this  Great  War  ? 

His  art  was  not  perhaps  of  the  highest  order, 
but  eminently  graphic.  He  worked  in  black  and  white 
with  marvellous  rapidity.  I  was  watching  him  once 
filling  in  and  finishing  a  battle  picture  in  the  Soudan 
and  remarked  on  the  celerity  with  which  he  used  his 
pencil;  he  replied  with  one  of  his  usual  jokes,  '*  Oh, 
the  same  battle  picture  does  for  them  all.  I  only 
put  in  a  face  or  two  suitable  to  the  occasion."  He 
belonged  to  the  adventurous  school  of  correspondents, 
Mr.  Archibald  Forbes  being  another  of  the  same 
spirit. 

At  all  times  an  amusing  companion,  full  of  anecdote, 
embroidering  his  stories  a  little,  especially  when  they 
were  against  himself.  Whenever  anybody  wanted  to 
start  him  off  for  their  entertainment  they  brought 
forward  the  subject  of  missionaries,  that  set  the  ball 
rolling  for  any  length  of  time.  Amongst  other  remarks 
of  his  on  this  subject  I  remember  his  saying  a  Kaffir, 
who  had  not  made  the  acquaintance  of  a  missionary, 
might  be  trusted,  but  after  being  converted  was  a 
certain  thief  and  liar. 

During  his  career  he  had  many  narrow  escapes  of 
losing  his  life.  While  sketching  the  burning  palace  at 
Ashanti,  he  was  so  engrossed  with  his  work  he  did  not 
notice  all  had  withdrawn  and  he  was  left  behind, 
practically  cut  off  from  them.  It  would  have  been 
too  tragic  to  have  been  burnt  up  by  the  fire  he  was 
sketching.    I  forget  how  he  escaped. 

In  Egypt  he  was  nearly  drowned,  indeed  the  news 
reached  us  one  evening,  when  we  were  all  standing 
about  the  steps  and  terrace  at  Shepheard's  Hotel,  that 
Melton  Prior  had  been  drowned  while  shooting  a 
cataract  up  the  Nile.  We  all  shook  our  heads,  re- 
counted his  many  virtues  or  otherwise  as  they  recurred 
to  different  people.     Next  day  came  news  that  he 


A  WAR  CORRESPONDENT'S  STORIES   253 

was  still  very  much  alive  and  going  strong.  He  did, 
however,  have  **  a  very  narrow  squeak,"  as  he  called 
it,  having  been  wrecked  ;  he  was  in  the  act  of  jumping 
from  the  wreckage  on  to  a  big  rock,  missed  his  footing 
and  fell  into  the  rushing,  swirling  water.  After  being 
submerged  for  a  time  he  was  fished  out  by  a  boat-hook, 
or  some  such  thing,  applied  to  the  seat  of  his  trousers ; 
his  friends  kept  him  upside  down  until  all  the  water 
ran  out  of  him  and  then  laid  him  on  the  bank  of  the 
Nile  to  dry.  While  this  saving  process  was  in  full 
swing,  we  in  Cairo  were  trying  to  remember  what  we 
had  said  the  day  before,  some  folk  trying  to  hedge  and 
qualify  their  previous  statements. 

He  told  me  a  good  story  of  a  fright  he  once  had 
in  South  Africa.  One  night  something  frightened  the 
Artillery  horses  and  they  stampeded,  coming  down 
like  an  avalanche  in  the  direction  of  his  tent ;  he  felt  it 
was  useless  with  his  short  legs  to  endeavour  to  compete 
with  the  madly  galloping  horses  ;  while  if  he  stayed 
in  his  tent  they  would  wreck  it  and  bury  him  under- 
neath it ;  he  said  if  he  had  owned  any  hair  on  the  top 
of  his  head  it  would  have  stood  on  end  from  fright ; 
fortunately  he  was  spared  by  some  brilUant  brain 
conceiving  the  idea  of  sounding  the  feeding  bugle, 
when  all  the  horses  wheeled  round  and  galloped  back 
to  their  normal  places  when  waiting  to  be  fed. 

I  asked  particularly  if  those  confiding  and  trusting 
animals  were  rewarded  with  a  feed,  and  was  glad  to 
hear  they  were  not  disappointed. 

At  Majuba  poor  little  Mr.  Prior  was  knocked  down  ; 
he  told  the  story  thus  at  a  little  reunion  dinner  of  old 
Cairo  friends  in  London. 

"  It  had  taken  us  ten  hours  to  climb  Majuba  Hill 
the  day  before  the  battle,  the  soldiers  being  heavily 
weighted  with  ammunition  and  so  forth,  it  took  us 
ten  minutes  coming  down  again ;  I  got  knocked  down 
while  friend  and  foe  took  the  opportunity  to  run  over 
my  prostrate  body ;  when  they  had  quite  done  with  me 
I  was  cast  into  prison,  but  liberated  later  when  it  was 
proved  I  was  a  non-combatant." 


254     MEMORIES  DISCREET  AND  INDISCREET 

After  being  nearly  drowned  in  the  Nile,  he  thought 
he  had  done  enough  to  justify  his  existence  and  would 
prefer  the  ship  of  the  desert  in  future,  but  after  ten 
hours'  ride  on  one  came  to  the  conclusion  he  had  not 
struck  oil  but  wished  he  had  !  This  was  between 
Wady  Haifa  and  Dongola. 

I  sympathise  with  Mr.  Prior.  After  a  three  hours' 
journey  on  a  camel  I  thought  my  back  must  be  broken 
in  at  least  three  places.  I  longed  to  lie  down  some- 
where— anywhere — flat  on  my  back  and  not  get  up 
again  for  a  week. 

The  Illustrated  London  News  artist  was  the  last  or 
possibly  one  of  the  last  to  speak  to  the  Prince  Imperial 
before  his  death,  and  one  of  those  who  went  to  search 
for  him.  He  bad  much  of  great  interest  to  tell  me  of 
this  time  that  I  had  not  heard  before  and  have  not 
heard  since.  According  to  his  account  the  blame  (as 
usual)  was  laid  on  the  wrong  shoulders.  The  story 
as  the  public  knew  it  ran  this  way.  When  the  Prince 
was  found  he  was  covered  with  wounds,  all  his  clothes 
gone,  but  a  fine  gold  chain  remained  round  his  neck 
from  which  was  suspended  the  portrait  of  his  father 
Napoleon  III.  The  Zulus  had  been  afraid  to  interfere 
with  this  thinking  it  was  a  charm  and  might  bring 
them  bad  luck.  The  story  of  who  was  to  blame  for 
this  poor  lad's  death  had  better  be  left  buried  in  the 
past. 

The  first  sketch  of  this  melancholy  scene  which 
reached  England  came  from  the  pen  of  Mr.  Prior. 

In  Dalmatia  Mr.  Prior  endured  great  hardships  and 
was  nearly  starved.  He  was  telling  me  about  this  one 
day  when  we  were  camel-riding  in  the  desert.  Mr. 
Cameron  of  The  Standard,  whom  I  think  he  liked 
better  than  any  other  man  of  his  acquaintance,  was 
riding  the  other  side  of  me  and  said,  '*  Don't  believe 

him,  Mrs. ,  nobody  knows  better  how  to  take  care 

of  himself  than  our  friend,  or  knows  how  to  travel  in 
greater  comfort." 

I  tried  to  steer  a  middle  course  by  saying  war-time 
comfort  was  not  very  great  at  any  time.     Mr.  Prior 


A  WAR  CORRESPONDENT'S  STORIES    255 

now  entered  into  a  wordy  argument  about  all  he  had 
endured,  and  told  his  friend  it  would  be  better  if  he 
took  a  little  more  care  of  himself,  adding,  *'  Or  you 
will  be  getting  killed  one  of  these  fine  days,''  and  so  he 
was,  at  the  battle  of  Gubat,  the  same  day  as  Mr.  Leger 
Herbert  of  The  Morning  Post. 

Mr.  Prior  and  the  other  correspondents  carried 
them  to  their  graves.  During  the  battle  Mr.  Cameron 
kept  exposing  himself  unnecessarily,  though  Mr.  Prior 
begged  his  friend  to  be  more  careful  and  keep  behind 
the  camels  and  biscuit-tin  barricades,  but  Mr.  Cameron 
said  he  knew  he  was  going  to  be  killed  that  day  ;  he 
felt  it,  and  would  take  no  care. 

It  was  during  the  Turkish  War  in  1877  that  Mr. 
Prior  said  he  did  the  sprint  of  his  life,  running  away 
from  a  Turk  who  had  insulted  him.  I  cannot  picture 
Mr.  Prior  sprinting,  nothing  about  him  looked  like  it. 

This  clever  artist  had  been  two  or  three  times  round 
the  world.  His  last  campaign  was  the  Russo-Japanese 
War,  where  he  was  much  worried  at  being  allowed  so 
little  scope  for  his  work.  The  day  was  just  dawning 
when  correspondents  were  to  be  put  on  the  shelf. 

At  the  age  of  sixty-five  Mr.  Prior  died  in  London  in 
igio,  the  wonder  is  he  lived  so  long,  his  life  had  been 
one  of  prolonged  adventure,  full  of  hardships  and 
danger. 

I  was  staggered  when  told  the  sum  of  money  he 
had  to  spend  in  connection  with  his  work ;  truly  corre- 
spondents are  an  expensive  luxury. 

He  said  he  would  pay  anything  that  would  enable 
him  to  get  his  '*  stuff  "  through  at  the  earhest  possible 
moment.  Once  in  South  Africa  he  was  very  anxious 
to  find  the  means  of  getting  some  information  he 
wanted,  and  also  something  to  ride  or  drive  to  carry 
it  to  a  place  about  forty  miles  away.  By  dint  of  a 
handful  of  loose  coins  presented  to  some  dirty  Boer 
children,  he  softened  the  heart  of  a  hitherto  scowling 
parent,  and  she  was  persuaded  to  converse  with  this 
lover  of  children.  He  heard  what  he  was  anxious  to 
find  out  and  succeeded  in  buying  a  lame  old  horse  and 


256     MEMORIES  DISCREET  AND  INDISCREET 

Cape  cart  for  thirty  pounds.  With  this  he  galloped 
until  the  horse  had  had  enough,  he  then  after  some 
bribery  hired  another  horse  for  seven  pounds,  this  he 
had  to  ride.  Various  people  en  route  had  to  have 
little  presents  to  prevent  them  being  too  inquisitive 
and  avoid  delays. 

This  he  explained  was  quite  a  modest  day's  expenses. 

In  Egypt  he  once  paid  £ioo  for  the  hire  of  a  camel, 
by  this  means  he  was  first  with  some  important  news. 

I  feel  that  camels,  so  little  understood  by  English 
people,  need  a  little  notice  \  they  have  been  good 
friends  to  me  and  interested  me  not  a  little.  The 
horse  is  a  friend  of  man,  not  so  the  camel ;  he  resents 
any  attempt  at  friendliness,  makes  strange  guttural 
bubbling  sounds  suggestive  of  disgust.  He  is  a 
natural  grumbler,  very  reserved  and  asks  for  no 
affection.  Flattery  and  blandishments  are  entirely 
lost  upon  him.  Yet  there  is  something  about  a  camel 
that  always  makes  me  feel  sorry,  he  seems  so  desolate, 
a  thing  apart,  taking  his  pleasures  sadly,  looks  as  if  he 
was  thinking  of  and  regretting  the  days  of  the  Pharaohs, 
as  though  he  felt  the  indignity  of  working  for  infidels 
and  people  from  the  West.  His  under  lip  is  like  that 
of  a  spoilt  child  on  the  verge  of  tears. 

To  make  a  camel  happy  it  is  necessary  to  keep  him 
always  on  the  move,  there  is  nothing  he  resents  more 
than  camp  life.  The  oppression  and  desolation  of  the 
desert,  silent  and  mysterious,  has  taken  possession  of 
him  just  as  it  does  of  us.  He  is  only  happy  when 
sailing  over  the  desert  with  his  head  in  the  air,  his 
soft,  gentle  eye,  partly  from  endurance,  partly  in 
protest,  gazing  far  away  at  something  we  do  not  see, 
possibly  the  Mecca  of  his  dreams. 

I  have  felt  when  travelling  over  the  desert  sands  on 
the  back  of  camels  something  of  their  unrest  and 
yearning.  When  far  from  the  haunts  of  man,  and 
after  days  and  nights  spent  in  the  great  oppressive  yet 
speaking  silence,  a  little  of  the  mantle  of  the  East 
descended  upon  me,  a  little  of  their  longing  to  keep  on 
the  move  until  reaching  the  Mecca  of  my  dreams. 


A  WAR  CORRESPONDENT'S  STORIES   257 

I  have  even  felt  as  though  I  must  speak  in  BibHcal 
language,  all  others  seeming  out  of  place  and  sympathy 
with  the  surroundings. 

All  the  movements  of  these  animals  are  dignified, 
yet  they  are  silly  fellows  as  well  as  grumblers  ;  they 
cannot  even  decide  for  themselves  what  is  good  for 
them  to  eat  and  what  will  upset  their  interior  economy, 
therefore  they  are  rather  an  anxiety  when  travelHng 
and  have  to  be  watched.  I  wonder  if  they  see  some 
of  those  beautifully  cruel  mirages  that  no  matter  how 
we  pursue  them  are  ever  far  away  with  mocking  smiles 
luring  people  on  until  they  give  up  the  struggle  and 
lie  down  to  die. 

How  bitterly  and  sadly  we  think  of  all  the  gallant 
promising  men  those  sands  have  swallowed  up. 

"  Of  those  who  fought  and  those  who  fell 
And  those  who  bravely  died, 
Of  those  who  bore  our  banners  high 
And  battled  side  by  side." 

The  Arabs  call  the  mirage  the  Devil's  Sea — *'  Bahr 
esh  Sheitan." 

Camels  have  little  tricks  of  their  own  which  it  is  well 
to  know  ;  it  prevents  our  hearts  from  sinking  into  our 
shoes  unnecessarily.  When  they  are  tired  and  have 
done  enough,  they  lie  down  and  wish  you  to  under- 
stand they  are  going  to  die  ;  it  is  just  as  well  to 
accept  this  attitude  for  a  time  without  argument,  but 
do  not  believe  it  unless  they  stretch  their  heads  out 
backwards,  then  it  means  real  business  and  all  is 
indeed  up. 

My  memories  carry  me  back  to  Town,  the  town — our 
town  London.  Writing  of  the  religious  feeling  that 
belongs  to  the  East  and  which  seizes  you  whether  you 
wish  it  or  no,  reminds  me  of  my  religion  at  home  and 
some  of  the  great  preachers  that  have  impressed  me. 
I  have  listened  to  many,  none  have  so  carried  me  off 
my  feet  with  religious  emotion  as  Father  Stanton  of 
St.  Albans,  Holborn  ;  at  one  time  so  much  before  the 
public  eye.  Mr.  Haweis  of  St.  James's,  Marylebone, 
interested    me,    but    more    of   him    later.      Cardinal 


258     MEMORIES  DISCREET  AND  INDISCREET 

Manning  of  Westminster  made  me  feel  I  wanted  to 
write  poetry.  Cardinal  Newman  of  Oxford  fame  made 
me  feel  I  wished  to  renounce  the  world  and  join  the 
*'  Silence  Sisterhood/'  but  Mr.  Stanton,  known  as 
Father  Stanton,  made  me  feel  I  wanted  to  be  good, 
useful,  bright,  try  and  radiate  joy  wherever  I  went. 
His  well-bred,  handsome  and  refined  face  was  attrac- 
tive ;  then  he  was  a  lover  of  humanity,  a  powerful 
preacher,  and  full  of  gentleness  and  pity. 

He  held  very  decided  views  of  his  own,  not  altogether 
pleasing  to  the  elect  rulers  of  the  Established  Church 
of  England,  and  told  them  at  intervals  he  did  not 
quite  agree  with  their  views  or  their  ruling.  It  was 
then  suggested  to  him  some  other  Faith,  the  Roman 
Catholic  for  instance,  might  be  more  to  his  liking,  but 
he  was  sorry  he  could  not  oblige  them. 

He  was  a  comparatively  young  man  when  first  I 
met  him,  full  of  energy  born  of  health,  blessed  with 
the  gift  of  speech,  intelligence  and  money,  all  of 
which  he  spent  lavishly  in  the  service  of  his  Master. 
I  think  he  must  have  been  about  thirty  when  first  I 
knew  him.  He  gave  me  a  most  interesting  account 
of  the  services  he  and  Mr.  Mackonochie  held  when 
first  he  went  to  St.  Albans  in  1862.  They  were  held  in 
an  underground  basement  ;  I  am  not  sure  it  had  not 
been  a  coal  cellar,  at  any  rate  the  only  daylight  that 
reached  the  place  came  from  the  pavement  somehow. 
While  the  service  was  being  conducted  they  were 
greeted  with  cries  from  the  street  above  of  *'  Halle- 
luiah," *'  Oh  Jerusalem,''  ''Go  it  strong  "  and  other 
encouragements  of  the  same  sort.  When  we  remember 
St.  Albans  from  1876  to  1886,  with  its  music,  candles, 
vestments,  incense  and  ritualistic  services,  it  seems 
wonderful  that  in  such  a  short  time  so  great  a  change 
could  have  come  over  the  people,  and  a  beautiful 
church  be  built. 

Many  living  people  must  remember  what  a  com- 
motion there  was  about  Mr.  Mackonochie  and  his 
ritualistic  practices  at  St.  Albans  ;  his  curate  Mr. 
Stanton,  of  course,  sharing  the  obloquy. 


A  WAR  CORRESPONDENT'S  STORIES    259 

Mr.  Tait,  at  that  time  Bishop  of  London,  warned 
Mr.  Stanton  if  he  went  to  St.  Albans  he  would  never 
gain  much  recognition  by  the  Established  Church, 
and  this  proved  to  be  the  case  ;  notwithstanding  this 
advice  he  went  to  St.  Albans,  and  the  one  thing  I 
could  not  quite  understand  and  which  I  regretted  in 
Mr.  Stanton's  life  was  the  way  he  cared  at  being 
passed  over  for  preferment ;  it  really  hurt  him. 
This  seemed  strange  to  me  who  knew  him  fairly  well ; 
in  the  first  place,  he  could  not  expect  it,  he  had  been 
told  so  plainly;  secondty,  I  thought  he  was  above 
caring  for  anything  of  the  kind. 

Once  when  staying  with  us  many  years  later,  he 
told  me  of  all  the  wondrous  dreams  that  filled  his 
brain  and  heart  when  he  stood  on  the  threshold  of  life, 
of  the  great  things  he  meant  to  do  ;  the  world  was 
going  to  be  a  better  place  as  the  result  of  his  work  ; 
the  same  ideas  so  many  of  us  start  life  with,  yet  he 
like  the  rest  of  us  suffered  disillusionment  from  the 
desperate  realities  of  life.  At  the  end  of  his  first  year's 
work,  all  his  rose-tinted  imaginings  had  died  violent 
deaths. 

Mr.  Stanton's  first  difference  with  his  ecclesiastical 
superiors  took  place  while  holding  a  Mission  Service 
for  soldiers.  The  Chaplain-General  fell  out  with  him, 
forbidding  him  ever  again  to  preach  in  a  Garrison 
church  or  chapel,  as  he  considered  his  preaching  and 
teaching  Popish. 

I  think  in  1886  Mr.  Stanton's  vicar  was  put  in 
prison  for  defying  the  law  with  regard  ^to  ritualistic 
practices,  the  result  being  a  notice  was  fastened  on  the 
door,  stating  the  services  were  prohibited  as  they 
wished  to  hold  them,  and  advising  their  congregation 
to  go  to  a  neighbouring  church  where  services  were 
held  in  the  same  manner  as  those  forbidden  at 
St.  Albans.  Acting  on  this  advice  all  trooped  off  to  a 
neighbouring  church. 

Mr.  Stanton  was  a  delightful  person  to  have  staying 
in  the  house,  being  bright  and  gay,  full  of  anecdote 
and  fun,  more  like  an  overgrown  schoolboy,  except 


26o     MEMORIES  DISCREET  AND  INDISCREET 

that  he  was  always  dignified,  there  was  nothing 
sanctimonious  about  him. 

I  remember  as  a  girl  hearing  the  St.  Albans  affairs 
and  the  Purchase  Judgment  much  discussed,  Mr. 
Purchase  being  a  Brighton  clergyman,  and  the  decision 
over  that  case  apparently  formed  a  rule  to  be  followed 
by  other  churches  ;  if  I  remember  rightly  it  was  all 
a  question  of  ritual  and  what  should  be  worn,  in  the 
way  of  vestments. 

Some  of  Mr.  Stanton's  stories  of  his  experience  were 
amusing,  and  he  told  them  well.  One  parishioner, 
wishing  to  speak  kindly,  suggested  it  was  not  wise  to 
use  incense  and  processional  lights.  He  replied,  '*  Did 
you  say  not  wise  ?  " 

Parishioner  :   ''  Yes." 

Mr.  Stanton  :  ''  There  are  only  two  people  called 
'  Wise  '  in  the  Gospels,  the  '  Wise  Men  '  who  offered 
incense,  and  the  *  Wise  '  Virgins  who  carried  pro- 
cessional lights." 

Another  man  who  attended  the  church  said  he 
disliked  the  ''  smell  of  incense."  "  Well,"  replied  the 
parson,  "  there  are  two  stinks  in  the  next  world, 
incense  and  brimstone,  and  you've  got  to  choose 
between  them." 

Then  there  was  an  old  woman  amongst  the  poorest 
of  his  flock  who  was  bed-ridden,  he  often  looked  in  to 
see  if  he  could  do  anything  for  her,  and  one  day  found 
her  in  great  pain.  He  suggested  that  a  poultice  might 
be  soothing  and  hurried  off  to  buy  some  linseed ;  he 
returned  to  make  the  poultice,  thinking  it  a  simple 
thing  to  do.  The  patient  was  feeling  too  ill  to  take 
much  notice  of  what  he  was  doing,  he  had  hoped  she 
would  have  given  him  some  instructions  as  to  the 
usual  mode  of  mixing  linseed  poultices.  He  looked 
about  and  found  an  unsavoury-looking  saucepan 
which  smelt  of  many  things,  into  this  he  poured  the 
linseed  bodily,  adding  enough  water  to  float  it.  There 
was  a  glimmer  of  fire  which  a  neighbour  occasionally 
looked  in  to  keep  alight ;  this  he  stoked  and  put  the 
saucepan  on  it. 


A  WAR  CORRESPONDENT'S  STORIES   261 

He  had  no  idea  it  took  so  long  to  make  a  poultice, 
and  as  it  looked  rather  liquid  he  poured  off  some  of 
the  water  out  in  the  street  as  he  could  find  no  other 
suitable  place ;  this  expedited  matters  and  at  last  he 
thought  it  must  be  warm  enough,  it  was  steaming; 
but  now  was  confronted  with  the  problem  of  what 
was  he  to  do  for  a  rag  to  place  it  on,  he  could  find 
nothing,  not  even  a  newspaper,  so  sacrificed  his  nice 
clean  pocket  handkerchief,  and  turned  the  contents 
of  the  saucepan  upside  down  in  the  middle  of  it. 
There  was  too  much  linseed,  it  threatened  to 
swamp  the  handkerchief,  so  he  picked  up  the  comers 
quickly  and  told  the  old  lady  to  prepare,  he  was 
coming  with  a  nice  warm  poultice  ;  a  good  portion  of  it 
fell  out  on  to  the  floor  with  a  plop  en  route,  the  rest 
the  old  lady  said  was  cold  and  no  use,  she  pushed  it 
away  from  her.  Mr.  Stanton  said  he  himself  felt  it 
was  not  altogether  a  success,  it  did  not  look  like  the 
poultices  he  had  been  accustomed  to,  and  he  had  made 
a  horrid  mess,  there  was  poultice  on  the  floor,  adhering 
to  the  sides  of  the  saucepan  and  on  his  clothes.  There 
was  nothing  to  be  done  but  go  and  find  a  charlady  to 
come  and  put  all  to  rights,  this  he  did  and  bought 
some  firing  and  other  comforts  for  the  old  sufferer. 
A  few  days  later  when  he  went  to  enquire  after  the 
woman's  health,  he  received  a  considerable  wigging  for 
having  spoilt  her  one  and  only  saucepan  ;  he  had  to 
go  and  buy  another  for  her.  After  this  he  thought  it 
wise  to  have  a  lesson  in  poultice-making. 

How  the  name  of  Father  Stanton  attached  itself  to 
him  I  do  not  know,  perhaps  from  the  children  who  loved 
him  so  well,  with  whom  he  used  to  play,  and  walk 
along  the  streets  holding  their  dirty,  sticky  little  hands. 

Father  Stanton's  preaching  was  remarkable,  almost 
jocular  at  times,  and  some  of  his  similes  so  homely  it 
was  impossible  to  help  smiling. 

On  one  occasion  when  he  had  chosen  the  text 
"  Fishers  of  Men  "  after  a  prolonged  pause  as  though 
thinking  deeply,  he  continued,  '*  and  what  queer  fish 
we  have  caught  !  " 


262     MEMORIES  DISCREET  AND  INDISCREET 

Another  evening  after  a  most  impassioned  address 
about  seeking  God's  help  in  our  daily  lives,  living  with 
him  at  our  side,  he  stood  still  for  a  moment  at  the 
back  of  the  pulpit  almost  exhausted  after  throwing 
his  arms  wide  in  eloquent  entreaty  to  us,  his  black 
hair  tossed  and  falling  over  his  white  face,  voice  tired 
and  husky  aftet  raising  it  in  almost  beseeching 
exhortation,  then  slowly  moving  to  the  front  of  the 
pulpit  again,  he  leaned  far  over  it  until  I  feared  he 
would  fall  out,  clasping  his  hands  tightly  together 
without  speaking  a  word  he  turned  his  head  looking 
at  the  whole  congregation  from  right  to  left,  then  in 
almost  a  whisper,  ''  Let  us  go  home  and  ask  God  to 
put  us  to  bed  !  ''    It  was  surprising  but  very  telling. 

At  times  he  quite  took  my  breath  away.  Once 
instead  of  giving  a  text  out  of  the  Bible  he  chose  an 
epitaph  from  a  tombstone  he  had  seen  in  Brittany, 
which  he  translated  for  the  benefit  of  his  congregation 
thus,  ''  Born  a  man  and  died  a  grocer."  I  think  he 
dehghted  in  surprising  and  perhaps  shocking  people 
into  attention. 

At  one  time  there  had  been  an  animated  discussion 
between  the  Vicar  of  St.  Albans  and  the  Authorities 
over  carrying  the  Cross  in  front  of  the  procession  from 
the  vestry  to  their  seats  in  the  chancel ;  they  might 
process  as  much  as  they  liked  but  must  not  carry  the 
Cross  in  front  of  the  choir.  During  the  usual  proces- 
sion the  hymn  was  sung  : 

"  Onward,  Christian  soldiers, 
Marching  as  to  war, 
With  the  Cross  of  Jesus 
Carried  on  before." 

So  Father  Stanton  quite  solemnly  altered  the  last 
line  to  ''  Left  behind  the  door  !  " 

Sunday  was  not  the  only  day  Father  Stanton 
preached,  but  on  Monday  evenings  as  well  and  with 
neither  choir  nor  ritual,  only  prayer,  a  hymn  sung  by 
the  congregation,  and  then  his  sermon.  I  have  many 
times  seen  the  church  so  packed  that  people  were 
standing  right  up  to  the  altar  and  glad  to  stand 


A  WAR  CORRESPONDENT'S  STORIES    263 

through  the  whole  service  to  hear  him  preach,  crowds 
waiting  outside  in  the  hope  of  finding  room.  The  New 
Year  services  at  St.  Albans  were  things  to  remember 
for  the  rest  of  our  lives,  it  seemed  to  be  a  special 
service  for  the  poor,  they  had  asked  for  it.  There  was 
going  to  be  no  midnight  service,  but  some  of  the 
lowhest  rang  the  bell  of  the  Clergy  House  and  asked 
him  to  see  the  old  year  out  and  the  new  one  in  with 
them  in  church.  The  Vicar  gave  his  consent  and  ever 
after  the  midnight  service  seemed  more  especially 
their  own.  Up  to  twelve  o'clock  he  talked  to  them  of 
the  past  and  the  many  mistakes  made  by  us  all,  a  few 
minutes  before  twelve  he  told  us  what  to  pray  for  and 
how  to  pray,  on  the  stroke  of  twelve  we  all  knelt  down 
and  I  think  all  prayed,  when  the  last  stroke  of  twelve 
had  died  away  he  rose  from  his  knees  in  the  pulpit  and 
exhorted  us  in  words  of  encouragement  to  ''  try 
again.'' 

I  have  been  told  that  at  the  end  of  one  of  these 
services  when  many  of  his  congregations  wanted  to  see 
their  favourite  come  out  of  the  church,  one  poor 
woman  who  had  been  most  attentive  and  who  had 
already  had  more  than  was  good  for  her  pressed  up  to 
Father  Stanton  and  pushed  sixpence  into  his  hand 
saying,  *'  Father,  you  must  be  dry,  go  and  get  a 
drink."  He  put  the  money  in  the  alms-box  at  the 
church  door. 

I  heard  him  preach  a  begging  sermon  once  ;  he  did 
not  like  doing  this  and  very  seldom  would  do  so,  but 
when  he  did  was  successful.  Men  turned  out  their 
trousers  pockets  searching  for  silver,  women  took  off 
their  rings  and  bangles  and  put  them  into  the  plate,  he 
asked  for  nothing  in  vain,  not  even  souls,  for  he 
gathered  in  many. 

One  New  Year's  Eve  which  happened  to  fall  on  a 
Saturday,  as  soon  as  Father  Stanton  began  to  preach, 
a  woman  who  was  seated  astride  on  the  back  of  one 
of  the  seats  and  also  had  been  refreshing,  shouted  out, 
*'  You  ain't  no  preacher,  come  out  of  it,"  to  which 
some  of  the  rough  men  near  said,  "  You  let  the  gentle- 


264     MEMORIES  DISCREET  AND  INDISCREET 

man  alone  or  we'll  knock  you  silly  " ;  she  was  led  out  of 
the  church  by  one  of  the  curates  and  was  heard  running 
through  her  vocabulary  as  she  went  growing  fainter 
and  fainter  in  the  distance. 

I  wonder  how  many  clergymen  would  have  said, 
"  You  must  not  come  to  church  tipsy,  you  must  not 
talk,  you  must  not  sit  astride  in  the  pews '' ;  there  was 
no  rebuke  from  Father  Stanton,  he  wanted  them  to 
come  anyway,  anyhow,  he  wanted  the  sinners,  drunkards 
and  thieves  and  he  got  them.  He  did  not  want  them 
to  wait  and  wash  and  dress  in  Sunday  clothes,  but 
to  come  as  they  were. 

After  fifty  years  of  work  amongst  the  poor,  Father 
Stanton  died. 

His  funeral  was  wonderful,  there  is  no  other  word 
to  describe  it.  His  coffin  was  wheeled  on  a  low  bier, 
followed  by  Boy  Scouts,  Postmen,  Watercress-sellers, 
Dukes,  Duchesses,  Sisters  of  Mercy,  Clergy  of  many 
denominations,  the  Rev.  R.  J.  Campbell  from  the 
City  Church,  Rag-pickers,  Orange  girls.  Hawkers 
selHng  his  memorial  card  on  which  was  written,  ''  The 
blessings  of  the  poor  follow  him,  for  he  was  their  best 
friend  for  fifty  years." 

The  procession  was  over  a  mile  long.  The  poor  are 
so  respectful  to  the  dead. 

The  words  Father  Stanton  wished  written  over  his 
grave  are,  ''  God  had  made  of  one  blood  all  nations 
of  men." 


CHAPTER  XVIII 

THE   TENNYSONS   AND   OTHERS 

The  Rev.  H.  R.  Haweis — Calls  on  the  Tennysons — His  Reception  at 
Farringford — Theatrical  Ladies  in  His  Choir — Magic  Lanterns 
in  Church — Tennyson  the  Picturesque  at  Afreton — I  meet  Mr. 
Parnell — He  Asks  a  Question  and  Receives  an  Unexpected  Answer 
— His  Views  on  Ireland's  Viceroys — His  Funeral — Sir  West  and 
Lady  Ridgeway — Lady  Ridgeway's  Pluck — Three  Ridgeway 
Brothers — A  Ghost  in  the  Under-Secretary's  Lodge — The  Duke  of 
Clarence's  Illness— The  ChUd  She-Bear. 

THE  Rev.  H.  R.  Haweis  was  quite  another 
stamp  of  man  and  most  interesting  ;  at  the 
time  I  knew  him  when  at  St.  James's,  Maryle- 
bone,  he  attracted  crowds  to  his  church,  men  pre- 
dominating, which  is  unusual.  He  was  even  more 
surprising  than  Mr.  Stanton,  but  in  a  different  way — 
being  of  an  artistic  temperament  and  music  mad,  if  I 
may  use  such  an  expression.  Music,  the  vioHn  in  par- 
ticular, was  the  joy  of  his  life.  I  used  to  think  he  would 
have  made  his  fortune  on  the  stage. 

As  a  boy  he  had  been  delicate,  suffering  from  hip 
disease,  and  Sir  Benjamin  Brodie  expressed  the  opinion 
he  would  not  live  long.  His  father  sent  him  to  Brighton 
for  his  health,  where  he  grew  much  stronger.  He  was 
then  sent  to  a  tutor  at  Freshwater  in  the  Isle  of  Wight, 
at  that  time  a  very  quiet  little  spot.  Not  being  able 
to  play  games  like  other  boys  he  mooned  about  with 
books  and  his  beloved  violin. 

He  told  me  a  story  in  connection  with  this  visit  to 
the  Isle  of  Wight.  The  Tennysons  were  at  Farring- 
ford House,  and  he  was  most  anxious  to  see  the  poet ; 
with  this  in  view  he  wandered  about  the  lanes  and 
woods  near  the  house,  but  never  caught  a  glimpse  of 
him  ;  he  then  went  regularly  to  church,  thinking 
that   might   be   a   find — but   no,   Mr.   Tennyson   did 

265 


266     MEMORIES  DISCREET  AND  INDISCREET 

not  go  to  church  in  the  Isle  of  Wight ;  he  now  made 
himself  quite  miserable,  being  in  a  far  advanced  stage 
of  hero  worship.  At  last  he  decided  he  would  go  to 
Farringford  House  and  ask  to  see  Mr.  Tennyson.  Yes, 
that  was  what  he  would  do.    Why  not  ?    Most  simple. 

Having  quite  made  up  his  mind  on  this  point  he 
felt  happier,  and  not  until  he  had  rung  the  front-door 
bell  did  he  feel  any  qualms,  but  the  clanging  of  the 
bell  as  it  echoed  through  the  house  filled  him  with 
alarm  and  it  occurred  to  him  for  the  first  time  that  his 
visit  might  appear  presumptuous  ;  and  he  had  no 
idea  what  he  was  going  to  say,  or  what  reason  to  give 
for  his  visit.  He  meditated  running  away;  too  late, 
the  door  was  opened  and  a  demure  maid  stood  in  front 
of  him,  so  he  asked  if  he  could  see  Mr.  Tennyson, 
being  told  in  reply  that  Mr.  Tennyson  saw  nobody  ; 
this  he  already  knew  quite  well,  but  having  got  so 
far  he  was  not  going  to  give  in  without  a  struggle,  so 
he  asked  if  Mrs.  Tennyson  was  at  home,  perhaps  she 
would  see  him ;  the  maid  said  she  would  go  and  enquire, 
returning  shortly  to  say  ''  Yes,'*  would  he  walk  in. 

With  hat  in  hand  and  heart  in  mouth  he  followed 
the  maid  into  a  pretty  drawing-room,  it  was  empty  ; 
he  was  trembling  from  emotion,  for  was  he  not  in  the 
house  of  the  great  man,  actually  treading  where  he  had 
trod.  There  was  a  picture  of  the  poet  in  the  room 
(or  photo,  I  forget  which),  he  went  up  to  it  and  was 
indulging  in  raptures  when  Mrs.  Tennyson  entered 
the  room.  He  bowed,  she  bowed,  and  waited  some 
explanation  of  his  visit,  what  he  wanted  to  see  her 
for.  He  was  sorry  he  did  not  know ;  he  stuttered  and 
stammered,  then  said,  '*I  want  to  see  Mr.  Tennyson." 

Mrs.  Tennyson:  *'  But  I  am  afraid  he  is  too  busy.'' 

Mr.  H. :  '*  Oh,  but  do  ask  him  to  see  me."  Then 
thinking  she  certainly  took  him  for  a  lunatic,  he 
launched  forth  all  about  his  admiration  for  the  poet. 

Mrs.  Tennyson  listened  while  he  explained  the  state 
of  his  feelings  and  his  desire  to  behold  the  hero  of  his 
dreams. 

At  last  the  kind-hearted  motherly  Mrs.  Tennyson 


THE  TENNYSONS  AND  OTHERS        267 

took  pity  on  the  youth  and  went  to  see  if  her  husband 
would  come  and  be  seen.  After  she  had  left  the 
room  Mr.  Haweis  became  so  nervous  he  almost  hoped 
the  man  would  not  come,  for  he  had  no  explanation 
to  give  for  his  visit  that  did  not  sound  mad  ;  he 
listened  anxiously  for  footsteps,  presently  he  heard  a 
man's  voice  outside  the  door  say,  '*  Is  he  an  impostor, 
do  you  think  ?  What  does  he  want  ?  "  Oh  !  how  he 
wished  he  could  fly  away  before  the  door  opened, 
which  it  did  almost  at  once.  Mr.  Tennyson  entered ; 
Mr.  Haweis  was  speechless.  Could  this  ordinary  looking 
man  possibly  be  the  poet,  no  lily  in  his  hand,  no  laurel 
wreath  on  his  head  ;  what  was  the  proper  thing  to 
do,  should  he  fall  flat  on  his  face,  go  on  his  knees,  or 
what  ?  Mr.  Tennyson  looked  suspiciously  at  him, 
spoke  a  few  not  very  cordial  words,  and  went  out  of 
the  room  again,  leaving  Mr.  Haweis  standing,  as  far 
as  I  could  gather,  in  a  stage-struck  attitude. 

Mrs.  Tennyson  talked  kindly  to  him  while  he 
recovered  himself  a  little,  he  then  begged  her  to  give 
him  some  writing  or  a  signature  of  her  husband's  ; 
she  took  up  an  envelope  lying  beside  her  addressed 
to  herself  and  gave  it  to  him.  He  went  away  delighted 
and  now  quite  happy.  I  wonder  whether  it  really 
was  Tennyson's  writing  or  a  stray  envelope  she  took 
up  just  to  get  rid  of  him. 

This  visit  was  paid  while  Tennyson  was  writing 
Maud,  which  the  critics  cut  up  so  mercilessly,  that 
of  course  helped  to  sell  it. 

When  telling  me  of  the  Farringford  story  Mr.  Haweis 
said  he  had  blushed  many  times  since  at  his  daring, 
his  *'  impulsive  cheek,"  and  that  he  had  met  the 
Tennysons  somewhere  years  afterwards  and  had  asked 
them  if  they  remembered  his  impertinence,  but  they 
had  entirely  forgotten  all  about  it. 

When  in  1856  Mr.  Haweis  entered  Trinity  College, 
Cambridge,  he  was  given  an  introduction  to  Dr. 
Whewell  (the  master),  whom  I  have  always  heard 
spoken  of  as  a  most  disagreeable  and  rude  man.  Dr. 
Whewell  sent  for  Haweis  and  asked  him  what  were 


268     MEMORIES  DISCREET  AND  INDISCREET 

his  aims  and  ambitions  in  life.  Haweis  replied  he 
had  none,  but  loved  the  fiddle. 

Haweis  regarded  Dr.  Whewell  as  an  intellectual 
monarch,  but  owned  he  himself  did  little  work  while 
at  the  University  beyond  writing  a  number  of  news- 
paper articles  on  all  sorts  of  subjects,  starting  a 
University  Magazine  called  The  Lion,  quickly  followed 
by  another  called  The  Bear,  which  was  clever,  and 
owned  by  Mr.  George  Otto  Trevelyan,  who  had  lately 
come  up  from  Harrow  and  who  filled  its  pages  with 
good-natured  parodies  and  banter  on  articles  appearing 
in  The  Lion,  The  poor  Lion  expired  after  three 
numbers  had  been  circulated.  Somebody  suggested 
another  magazine  should  be  started  entitled  "  David 
who  Slew  the  Lion  and  the  Bear."  Mr.  Haweis'  views 
of  the  University  training  agree  with  mine,  my  experi- 
ence having  been  that  those  amongst  my  relations 
and  friends  who  have  been  there  have  learnt  nothing 
more  than  they  knew  when  they  went  up  in  the  way  of 
educational  knowledge,  but  a  good  deal  not  quite  so 
desirable.  Mr.  Haweis  said  all  the  knowledge  that  had 
been  any  real  use  to  him  he  acquired  after  the  Uni- 
versity had  proclaimed  him  Master  of  Arts ;  the  know- 
ledge had  enabled  him  to  make  money  with  his  pen, 
write  books,  preach  sermons,  give  lectures,  organise 
parishes,  edit  journals  and  so  forth  ;  and  this  was  not 
what  the  University  training  imparted,  discouraged 
it  rather  than  otherwise. 

I  remember  there  was  a  great  commotion  when  Mr. 
Haweis  introduced  magic-lantern  pictures  during  his 
services  in  Marylebone.  I  think  he  must  have  been  the 
first  to  use  them  in  his  church ;  it  was  considered  very 
wicked  in  those  days — unheard-of  secularity.  Then 
he  played  his  violin  in  church  and  had  theatrical 
ladies  in  his  choir,  which  set  everybody  buzzing ; 
his  idea  was  to  make  his  services  attractive  and  he 
certainly  succeeded,  his  church  used  to  be  crammed ; 
at  first  they  went  out  of  curiosity  and  remained  because 
interested. 

His  first  rise  towards  fame  came  when  he  was  curate 


THE  TENNYSONS  AND  OTHERS        269 

at  St.  James  the  Less,  Westminster.  Dean  Alford 
(Dean  of  Canterbury),  editor  of  The  Contemporary 
Review,  gave  him  some  work  to  do,  asking  him  to  write 
a  page  or  two  for  him  on  a  couple  of  volumes  of  Mozart's 
letters.  This  was  his  first  remunerative  work,  and  the 
article  he  wrote  attracted  so  much  attention  his  literary 
fortune  was  made.  The  following  week  more  volumes 
arrived  for  review. 

Amongst  his  intimate  friends  were  Mendelssohn, 
whose  Songs  Without  Words  are  to  be  found  in  almost 
every  home,  Piatti,  prince  of  violoncellists,  Joachim, 
who  played  Bach's  Chaconne  so  beautifully  at  the 
early  age  of  fifteen  or  sixteen,  poor  Chopin,  dying  of 
consumption,  playing  in  the  drawing-rooms  of  the 
rich  nightly,  and  many  more.  Music  was  the  joy  of 
Mr.  Haweis'  life  ;  he  had  a  theory  that  it  is  a  great 
healer,  and  nerve  soother,  that  it  should  become  a 
powerful  and  acknowledged  therapeutic.  Certainly  we 
are  often  told  our  illnesses  are  due  to  disordered  nerves, 
so  if  music  would  cure  us  what  a  charming  remedy. 
Mr.  Haweis  said  there  was  the  stimulant  of  music, 
and  the  lubricant,  each  to  be  applied  in  their  different 
ways. 

He  preached  on  this  subject  once,  saying  that 
music  was  the  discipline  of  emotion.  I  remember 
him  throwing  out  his  arms  in  his  theatrical  way  and 
saying  : 

**  What  is  the  ruin  of  art  ? 

What  is  the  ruin  of  life  ? 

What  mars  happiness,  de- 
stroys manliness  ? 

SulHes  womanhood,  spoils 
success  ? 


Ill-regulated  emotions, 


"  If  there  is  one  thing  more  important  than  knowing 
self  it  is  governing  self." 

He  then  pointed  out  how  music  was  to  regulate  the 
emotions. 

I  think  some  people  could  have  told  him  it  did 
much  the  reverse  ! 


270     MEMORIES  DISCREET  AND  INDISCREET 

There  is,  however,  no  doubt  Mr.  Haweis  was  a 
man  of  considerable  musical  ability.  He  died  in  1901 
at  the  age  of  sixty-three,  leaving  a  number  of  books 
he  wrote  at  one  time  and  another  during  his  life  ;  his 
Music  and  Morals  had  a  great  sale. 

The  man  was  an  artist  and  everything  he  said  and 
did  was  for  effect.  I  do  not  think  people  always  realise 
that  Art  is  not  always  spontaneous,  but  the  result 
often  of  hard  work  and  considerable  thought.  Yet 
this  has  been  proved  many  times  when  we  chance 
to  catch  glimpses  of  the  private  documents  of 
great  men. 

There  is  a  well-known  advocate  living  to-day  who 
marks  his  briefs  down  the  margins  to  remind  him 
where  a  little  theatrical  effect  will  be  helpful  to  press 
a  point.    Thus — *'  Angry — angrier.  .  .  .'' 

There  was  once  a  clergyman  who  preached  a  sermon 
that  moved  his  congregation  to  tears.  A  bed-ridden 
parishioner  told  him  she  regretted  so  much  not  having 
been  able  to  go  and  hear  it  as  her  son  had  told  her  it  was 
''most  beautiful,"  so  the  parson  said  he  would  lend  it 
to  her  to  read,  quite  forgetting  his  marginal  notes  of 
''  Voice  must  tremble  with  emotion  here,''  a  little 
further  down  *'  Cry  here." 

A  certain  newspaper  correspondent  I  have  met, 
when  being  sent  abroad  for  his  paper,  made  out  his 
line  of  campaign  before  starting  on  the  back  of  an 
envelope,  thus  :  ''  Exciting  journey."  ''  Must  be  lost 
here."  ''  Reward  offered."  ''  Found  suffering  from 
privations."  All  nicely  arranged  before  starting  from 
his  home  !    Surely  this  is  Art  with  a  very  big  A. 

Mr.  Haweis'  story  of  Tennyson  reminds  me  of  the 
first  time  I  saw  the  poet  when  dining  at  Afreton, 
Mr.  Ben  Cotton's  place  at  Freshwater,  during  the  time 
he  was  Master  of  the  I.O.W.  Hounds. 

It  was  summer,  and  when  we  came  out  from  dinner 
we  found  the  whole  grounds  illuminated  with  hundreds 
of  small  Chinese  lanterns  of  many  colours,  hanging 
from  trees  and  shrubs,  as  well  as  arranged  along  the 
edge  of  the  lake  in  front  of  the  house,  quite  a  fairy- 


THE  TENNYSONS  AND  OTHERS        271 

land  effect ;  I  wonder  it  did  not  inspire  Tennyson  into 
writing  an  ode  to  it,  but  perhaps  it  did.  The  French 
window  of  the  drawing-room  at  Afreton  opened  on  to 
the  lawn.  I  was  half  in  the  room  and  half  out  when 
Mr.  Tennyson,  who  had  been  to  fetch  his  hat  and 
cloak,  came  to  talk  to  me.  What  an  artist  he  was  to 
the  finger-tips,  every  movement  of  studied  grace,  he 
looked  a  poet  and  felt  a  poet.  As  he  approached  me 
he  threw  one  end  of  his  cloak  over  his  shoulder,  leaned 
back  against  the  window-frame,  the  subdued  light 
from  the  drawing-room  falling  on  his  face,  the  back- 
ground of  the  creeper-covered  house,  and  beyond,  the 
fairy  lamps  amongst  the  shadows  of  the  trees.  The 
picture  was  perfect  and  Tennyson  knew  it,  felt  it. 
The  way  he  dressed  his  hair,  the  way  he  wore  his  beard 
and  moustache  combined,  made  an  artistic  frame  for 
his  thoughtful  eyes,  lofty  brow,  and  benevolent  nose. 

His  clothes  added  to  his  picturesqueness,  though  I 
must  confess  I  have  longed  at  times  to  adjust  his  tie, 
turn  his  collar  down  comfortably;  there  was  always 
the  wide  flap  of  his  coat,  lapel,  I  think  tailors  term  it, 
crumpled  up  and  trying  to  squeeze  from  under  his 
cloak  or  greatcoat,  yet  none  of  it  appeared  studied, 
on  the  contrary  quite  natural. 

I  have  heard  it  stated  that  he  was  disagreeable  and 
inclined  to  snub  people.  I  am  glad  I  never  saw  that 
side  of  him  if  it  was  there.  I  thought  him  charming 
and  refined,  and  he  loved  gardens,  trees  and  birds,  as 
I  do.  We  used  to  enthuse  over  them.  I  feel  I  know 
the  mood  he  was  in  when  he  wrote  those  lines, 

*'  There  seemed  no  room  for  sense  of  wrong,        , 
The  woods  were  filled  so  full  of  song." 

Yet  at  times  after  talking  to  Lord  Tennyson  I  have 
wondered  if  he  understood  himself  or  his  poetry. 
Someone  once  said  it  is  a  mistake  for  people  to  be 
famous  in  their  lifetimes.  If  they  Uve  long  enough 
the  world  begins  to  think  they  are  not  half  such  fine 
fellows  as  they  thought  they  were.  This  rather  applied 
to  Tennyson.  Before  he  died  he  was  a  little  out  of 
favour,  one  heard  it  suggested  he  was  not  as  great  as 


272     MEMORIES  DISCREET  AND  INDISCREET 

had  been  imagined.  He  felt  the  way  the  critics  cut 
up  his  In  Memoriam,  the  work  that  was  so  much 
hked  by  the  pubUc. 

Looking  back  over  the  number  of  people  I  have  met 
at  one  time  and  another  I  am  glad  to  have  known 
Charles  Parnell,  the  inscrutable  Pamell  who  was  so 
prominently  before  the  public  at  one  time. 

I  think  it  was  in  1889  a  friend  asked  me  if  she  might 
bring  Mr.  Parnell  to  one  of  my  Sunday  afternoons 
in  London  as  he  wished  very  much  to  meet  me.  I 
gladly  consented;  that  was  the  first  of  many  visits. 
I  came  to  the  conclusion  he  either  wanted  me  to  do 
something  for  him  or  to  find  out  something  from  me. 
A  relation  of  mine  was  Under-Secretary  for  Ireland  at 
the  time,  so  I  scented  danger.  He  seemed  to  think  I 
must  know  a  great  deal  about  Irish  happenings,  and 
what  was  going  on  at  the  Castle.  As  a  matter  of  fact 
I  did  not  know  much,  and  if  I  had,  I  should  naturally 
have  held  my  own  counsel. 

During  either  the  second  or  third  call  he  said, 
''  You  know  Lord  S.,  do  you  not  ? "  I  replied 
I  did  and  had  been  dining  there  a  few  evenings  pre- 
viously. Mr.  Parnell  then  said,  '*  Do  you  happen 
to  know  whether  he  personally  thinks  I  was  in  any 
way  connected  with  Burke's  murder  ?  and  what  his 
opinion  is  about  these  forgeries  ?  "  Now  it  so  happened 
there  had  been  considerable  discussion  on  these  sub- 
jects ;  the  Pamell  Commission  was  sitting  at  the  time 
if  I  remember  rightly,  to  inquire  into  these  forgeries, 
and  the  general  concensus  of  opinion  had  not  been  in 
Mr.  ParnelFs  favour.  Lord  S.  had  spoken  rather 
severely.  I  therefore  turned  from  a  direct  reply, 
saying,  *'  His  lordship  did  not  tell  me  any  secrets, 
but  offered  me  a  golden  crown  if  I  would  bring  to  him 
your  head  on  a  charger."  He  looked  amused  and 
grasped  that  pumping  me  was  no  use.  Mr.  Pamell 
could  not  laugh,  and  I  mistrust  all  who  cannot  do  so ; 
the  nearest  to  a  real  laugh  I  ever  saw  or  heard  from 
the  Irish  leader  was  on  this  occasion. 

We  had  various  little  fencing  matches  after  this.    I 


THE  TENNYSONS  AND  OTHERS        273 

could  never  quite  convince  myself  that  Pamell  was 
really  sincere  in  his  love  for  the  Irish,  their  rights  and 
wrongs,  nevertheless  I  liked  to  hear  him  talk  of  what 
he  called  the  **  cruel  injustice  "  from  which  they 
suffered.  His  eyes,  which  were  soft  and  plaintive- 
looking  at  ordinary  times,  became  the  yellow-red- 
brown  of  a  burnished  chestnut  when  angry  or 
excited. 

Although  not  quite  convinced  of  his  true  feelings 
concerning  the  Irish,  I  was  never  in  any  doubt  about 
his  feelings  for  the  English.  He  hated  them  all.  At 
heart  a  Tory,  and  loving  a  fight,  he  could  not  endure 
cringing  or  flattering.  Mr.  Pamell's  appearance  was 
striking,  he  carried  himself  well  with  dignified  bearing 
and  had  charming  manners.  There  was  no  mistaking 
him  for  anything  but  a  gentleman,  and  I  should  have 
said  a  self-respecting  gentleman  if  it  had  not  been  for 
his  habitual  untidiness,  his  hair  was  always  unkempt, 
looking  as  if  it  had  been  accidentally  overlooked  in 
the  morning's  toilet,  while  his  clothes  might  have 
been  put  on  with  a  pitchfork ;  this  did  not  seem  to  me 
to  run  kindly  with  self-respect. 

For  sheer  audacity  he  would  have  been  hard  to 
beat ;  the  Irish  loved  him  for  it,  they  went  wild  over 
him,  but  he  never  became  passionate  either  when 
speaking  or  during  great  moments.  A  relation  of  mine 
was  travelling  with  him  from  Dublin  or  Athlone 
once  during  the  zenith  of  his  success.  A  large  crowd 
came  to  the  station  to  see  him  off,  handkerchiefs  were 
waving,  hats  thrown  up  in  the  air  ;  and  there  was 
every  expression  of  affection  and  approval.  Parnell 
looked  on  quite  unmoved,  until  someone  pointed  out 
to  him  a  young  woman  who  was  so  carried  away  by 
her  feelings  and  having  nothing  handy  with  which  to 
illustrate  them,  waved  her  unhappy  baby  backwards 
and  forwards  in  the  air — a  sort  of  dot  and  dash  signal 
business.  He  was  obliged  to  smile,  a  gentle  relaxation 
of  the  muscles  of  his  mouth.  The  people  were  so 
amused  they  rocked  with  laughter.  I  have  been  told 
Mr.  Pamell  laughed  heartily  but  I  have  my  doubts. 


274     MEMORIES  DISCREET  AND  INDISCREET 

and  my  relations  did  not  hear  it,  but  there  are  other 
versions  of  this  story. 

While  so  composed  outwardly,  I  believe  inwardly 
Mr.  Parnell  was  consumed  with  intense  feeling,  an 
ever-abiding  excitement,  and  that  was  what  made  him 
always  in  a  hurry  ;  he  could  never  wait  for  anything  ; 
to  wait  for  a  train  was  anguish  to  him,  he  would  have 
liked  a  special  always  and  to  travel  at  the  rate  of 
sixty  miles  an  hour.  He  never  wrote  letters  if  he  could 
help  it,  but  sent  telegrams,  bundles  of  telegrams.  In 
the  same  way  if  people  wrote  letters  to  him  they  were 
laid  on  one  side,  possibly  forgotten,  but  a  telegram 
was  attended  to  on  the  spot.  I  once  received  three 
telegrams  from  him  in  as  many  hours,  and  none  of 
them  of  any  consequence. 

It  was  difficult  when  talking  to  Mr.  Parnell  to  believe 
he  could  be  the  cruel  man  that  I  fear  he  was.  His  voice 
was  gentle,  his  speech  cultured,  yet  there  was  no  getting 
away  from  the  fact  that  he  was  responsible  for  the 
cattle  maiming  and  torture  of  dumb  animals  in  Ireland. 
I  dared  to  say  something  of  this  to  him  once  when  he 
was  stating  his  love  for  animals.  He  stoutly  denied 
being  a  party  to  it  and  said  the  people  were  excitable 
and  got  out  of  hand,  nobody  deplored  the  sufferings 
of  the  maimed  cattle  more  than  he  did.  This  did  not 
satisfy  me,  as  it  was  at  a  time  when  one  word  from 
him  would,  I  believe,  have  put  an  end  to  it.  Besides, 
the  responsibiUty  rested  with  him  if  the  people  did 
get  out  of  hand,  he  must  have  known,  if  anybody  did, 
the  temperament  of  the  people,  and  when  he  founded 
the  Land  League  and  suggested  boycotting  and  agrarian 
outrages,  what  they  might  lead  to. 

Talking  to  me  one  day,  not  long  before  the  end  of 
his  life,  when  he  was  in  a  very  bitter  and  dejected 
mood,  he  gave  me  at  some  length  his  opinions  of 
Ireland's  Viceroys  during  his  time.  He  said  Lord 
Aberdeen  in  1886  (I  think,  if  I  remember  the  date 
correctly)  was  the  only  man  who  knew  anything 
about  Ireland  or  cared  anything  about  her.  I  asked, 
"  What  of  Lord  Londonderry  ?  " 


THE  TENNYSONS  AND  OTHERS        275 

"  Oh,  he  is  no  use  at  all,  but  has  not  enough  brains 
to  do  much  harm,  a  child  could  see  through  his  little 
schemes/' 

**  And  what  of  Lord  Spencer  ?  " 

*'  Deceitful  old  liar,  thinks  if  he  hides  his  head  behind 
somebody  else  that  we  cannot  see  his  legs/' 

"  Then  I  am  afraid  you  have  not  a  very  exalted 
opinion  of  any  of  them  ?  '' 

''I  do  not  look  for  brains  amongst  the  inbred 
aristocracy ;  the  rising  generation  may  be  an  improve- 
ment, a  few  have  been  bold  enough  to  break  away 
from  the  old  family  traditions  and  have  married  clever 
American  women.  The  ordinary  education  of  English 
gentlemen's  sons  at  Eton  and  Oxford  is  not  calculated 
to  turn  out  brilliant  statesmen.  One  I  know  at  the 
present  moment  is  a  brilliant  example  of  an  hereditary 
legislator,  when  writing  to  me  the  other  day  spelt 
barracks  with  one  '  r '  and  no  '  c  ' !  While  one  of  your 
leading  statesmen  confessed  not  long  ago  that  he  had 
not  been  taught  geography  and  did  not  know  where 
the  Philippine  Islands  were." 

**  But  Eton  and  Harrow,  Oxford  and  Cambridge 
have  turned  out  some  of  our  greatest  statesmen, 
soldiers  and  sailors,"  I  replied. 

**  In  the  past  yes,  not  much  was  asked,  nothing 
questioned,  but  that  will  not  do  to-day,  the  people 
are  educated  and  interested." 

Parnell  died  hopelessly  in  debt  and  no  longer  the 
idol  of  the  Irish  people  ;  they  could  not  forgive  his 
lapse  and  more  especially  his  being  found  out  over  the 
O'Shea  matrimonial  trouble. 

The  attitude  of  the  press  and  of  Parnell's  friends 
amused  me  when  the  divorce  case  came  on.  The  Irish 
people  felt  aggrieved,  they  had  been  deceived,  had 
received  a  cold  douche.  One  or  two  papers  stood  up 
for  him  saying  his  private  Hfe  had  nothing  to  do  with 
his  politics,  another  remarked  perhaps  there  were 
more  members  who  had  not  kept  all  the  command- 
ments. Gladstone  said  he  had  done  with  Parnell, 
and  henceforth  washed  his  hands  of  him. 


276     MEMORIES  DISCREET  AND  INDISCREET 

Parnell  told  me  Gladstone  was  a  ''  canting  old  fool," 
I  also  gathered  he  considered  it  had  been  a  got-up 
case  all  through  and  he  was  utterly  disgusted  with 
everybody  concerned.  Of  course  it  was  the  end  of  his 
political  career. 

As  soon  as  it  was  possible  after  the  divorce  Parnell 
married  Mrs.  O'Shea  and  five  months  later  died 
suddenly  at  Brighton,  some  say  of  inflammation  of 
the  lungs,  others  say  by  his  own  hand.  I  cannot  say 
which,  but  lean  towards  the  latter,  for  he  was  ruined 
politically,  ruined  financially,  and  possibly,  as  has 
happened  time  and  time  again,  the  woman  who  has 
been  the  means  of  ruining  a  man's  life  ceases  to  hold 
his  heart-strings  when  able  to  marry.  Besides  this, 
certain  things  he  said  led  me  to  the  conclusion  he  no 
longer  wished  to  live  or  thought  it  possible  to  do  so. 

I  was  in  Dublin  staying  at  the  Under-Secretary's 
Lodge  at  the  time  of  Parnell's  funeral.  I  wanted  to 
go  and  see  it  but  was  told  it  was  not  considered  wise 
for  the  Government  liveries  to  be  seen  for  fear  it  might 
lead  to  disturbance.  The  funeral  procession  and  service 
passed  off  quite  quietly,  there  was  no  sort  of  demon- 
stration. He  was  buried  in  Glasnevin  Cemetery, 
Dublin. 

While  staying  at  the  Under-Secretary's  Lodge  with 
the  Ridgeways  I  asked  if  it  was  true  that  the  grass 
would  not  grow  on  the  place  where  Lord  Frederick 
Cavendish  and  Mr.  Burke  were  murdered  ? 

Lady  Ridgeway  said  yes,  it  was  quite  true,  but 
because  the  crowd  of  people  who  went  to  see  the  place 
trampled  it  so  much,  that  the  grass  had  no  chance  of 
growing.  This  rather  threw  down  my  mystic  romance, 
as  I  had  been  told  the  grass  would  never  grow  on  the 
place  and  remained  bare  in  the  shape  of  a  cross. 

Ireland  was  anything  but  settled  even  when  I  was 
there  on  this  visit  in  1891.  I  think  I  felt  quite  as 
nervous  of  the  Irish  Police  walking  up  and  down  and 
around  the  Lodge  for  our  protection  as  I  did  of  the 
Fenians.  I  asked  Lady  Ridgeway  if  she  ever  felt 
nervous,  she  said  no,  but  she  had  felt  uncomfortable 


THE  TENNYSONS  AND  OTHERS        277 

once  or  twice.  One  evening  she  was  sitting  in  the 
drawing-room  reading  in  an  arm-chair  close  to  the 
fireplace  with  her  little  dog  on  her  lap.  She  was  quite 
alone,  as  Sir  West  was  staying  at  Barons  Court  with 
the  Abercorns.  All  the  servants  were  at  supper  far 
away  at  the  other  end  of  the  house.  The  conservatory 
opened  out  of  the  drawing-room  and  had  a  door  at 
the  far  end  leading  into  the  garden.  All  was  very 
quiet.  Presently  there  came  to  Lady  Ridge  way  the 
curious  feeling  we  have  when  people  are  looking  at 
us,  and  she  raised  her  eyes  from  her  book  in  time  to 
see  a  man's  dirty  hand  holding  back  a  little  corner  of 
the  blind  that  was  hanging  between  the  drawing- 
room  and  the  greenhouse.  She  never  moved,  but  held 
her  book  up  as  if  still  reading  and  quietly  pressed  a 
finger  on  the  electric  bell  close  to  her  by  the  fireplace. 
When  the  butler  answered  the  bell  she  said,  *'  I  think 
there  is  someone  in  the  conservatory,  will  you  please 
look  ?  "  The  butler  moved  towards  the  blind,  when 
there  was  a  great  clatter  of  falling  flower-pots,  a 
scuttling  of  feet,  and  the  door  at  the  far  end  slammed 
to  violently.  Lady  Ridgeway  never  knew  for  certain 
who  it  was,  but  had  a  shrewd  guess.  I  really  think 
she  was  very  brave. 

One  dark  November  night,  the  butler  came  in  after 
dinner  to  say  a  man  who  looked  very  rough  and  common 
wanted  to  see  her  ladyship  and  would  not  go  away  ; 
the  man  was  most  insistent,  what  should  he  do  ? 

Lady  Ridgeway  said  he  was  to  ask  what  the  man 
wanted.  This  he  had  already  done,  only  to  be  told 
he  would  not  see  anybody  but  her  ladyship. 

She  then  said,  ''  Bring  the  man  here  to  me  and  wait 
outside  the  door.  If  I  want  you  I  will  touch  the 
bell." 

After  waiting  a  short  time  the  servant  returned 
ushering  in  a  big,  rough,  dirty-looking  man  in  workaday 
clothes.  He  seemed  very  agitated,  and  coming  fairly 
close  up  to  her,  said  he  wanted  her  to  go  and  see  his 
wife  who  was  dying.  Lady  Ridgeway  asked  a  few 
questions  as  to  where  his  wife  lived  and  what  was  the 


278     MEMORIES  DISCREET  AND  INDISCREET 

matter,  etc.  At  first  she  thought  it  might  only  be  a 
ruse,  but  eventually  decided  to  go,  for  the  man  said 
he  was  very  anxious,  fearing  his  wife  might  die  without 
seeing  the  lady.  So  putting  on  some  wraps,  she  told 
the  man  she  would  go  with  him.  The  butler  implored 
her  to  let  him  go  with  her  as  a  protector,  but  she 
declined,  saying  that  would  be  the  way  to  make  trouble, 
she  would  rather  go  alone  and  trust  the  man.  This 
she  did,  being  led  down  narrow,  dark  alleys  with  rough- 
looking  people  standing  at  their  doors,  and  passing 
remarks. 

At  last  the  man  stopped  in  front  of  a  house  in  a 
row  of  shabby  buildings.  He  struck  a  match  to  show 
her  the  way  in,  and  led  her  up  a  narrow  staircase  to 
the  bedside  of  a  woman  evidently  very  ill,  whose  whole 
face  lit  up  when  Lady  Ridge  way  entered  the  room. 
The  poor  woman  said  she  had  often  seen  Lady  Ridge- 
way  driving  about  in  Dublin  and  admired  her  sweet, 
pretty  face  so  much.  She  had  never  seen  anybody  so 
beautiful  and  had  longed  to  see  her  near  and  speak 
to  her,  and  now  she  would  die  happy.  After  sitting 
by  the  woman  for  some  time  while  a  crowd  of  relations 
and  friends  looked  on  and  used  up  every  vestige  of  air 
that  was  sadly  needed  by  the  sick  woman  Lady 
Ridge  way  left,  saying  she  would  send  all  the  nice  things 
she  thought  would  do  the  patient  good,  and  descended 
the  rickety  stairs  on  her  return  home.  The  husband, 
waiting  by  the  door,  escorted  her  on  the  return 
journey,  gruffly  thanked  her  for  coming,  refused  any 
offer  of  money  to  get  dainties  for  his  wife,  and  left 
Lady  Ridge  way  safely  at  her  own  front  door,  where 
the  household  were  gathered  together  holding  con- 
clave as  to  the  best  steps  to  take  to  find  her  possibly 
murdered  body.  Lady  Ridgeway  is  dead  now.  I 
think  she  was  one  of  the  bravest  women  I  ever  knew, 
and  always  without  any  sort  of  fuss. 

Once  when  her  married  sister  was  very  ill  and  stay- 
ing with  her  people,  Lady  Ridgeway,  at  that  time  quite 
a  girl,  on  returning  from  a  ball  in  the  small  hours  of 
the  morning  looked  into  her  sister's  room  as  she  had 


THE  TENNYSONS  AND  OTHERS        279 

promised  to  do,  and  was  asked  if  she  could  fill  an 
india-rubber  bag  with  hot  water  to  save  calling  the 
nurse  who  was  asleep  in  the  next  room.  The  light  was 
very  low  and  Lady  Ridgeway  was  very  short-sighted, 
but  she  managed  to  fill  the  bag  from  the  kettle  boiling 
on  the  hob,  kissed  her  sister  good  night  and  went 
away.  Not  until  the  next  day  did  anybody  know  that 
she  had  seriously  scalded  her  hand  and  arm,  necessi- 
tating a  doctor  being  sent  for  to  dress  it.  Yet  she  had 
made  no  sound  nor  dropped  the  bag,  for  fear  of  alarm- 
ing her  sister. 

She  was  a  pretty  girl,  a  beautiful  woman  and  a 
devoted  wife  and  mother. 

Sir  West  Ridgeway  was,  and  is,  a  clever  man,  one  of 
three  clever  brothers,  all  self-made  men  from  their  own 
abihty  :  Fred  Ridgeway  is  the  present  Bishop  of 
Salisbury,  a  good  preacher  in  his  own  line  ;  Charles 
Ridgeway,  Bishop  of  Chichester,  a  most  eloquent 
preacher,  with  great  charm  of  manner,  who,  while 
treading  the  straight  road  according  to  the  Established 
Church  of  England's  ruling,  has  not  been  deprived  of 
his  personality  or  become  narrow-minded,  so  unsancti- 
monious  and  natural  has  he  remained  that  I  should 
hardly  know  him  to  be  a  bishop  but  for  his  frills  and 
sleeves. 

Of  all  the  professions  when  they  get  to  the  top  of 
the  tree  I  think  the  Church  is  the  most  pompous  and 
priggish.  I  once  asked  the  Rev.  Charles  if  he  was  a 
great  stickler  for  dogma,  if  he  was  narrow-minded, 
and  if  he  allowed  there  were  more  paths  than  one  to 
heaven  ?  He  replied,  *'  I  am  careful  to  see  the  founda- 
tions of  the  Faith  are  soundly  laid,  the  superstructure 
may  take  different  styles  of  theological  architecture.'' 

He  was  one  of  the  founders  of  the  Church  and  Stage 
Guild,  at  one  time  so  much  criticised,  and  is  glad  that 
the  principles  he  upheld  are  generally  adopted  in  the 
Theatrical  Guild  as  it  now  exists. 

His  views  on  temperance  are  rational.  He  says 
nations  cannot  be  made  sober  by  law,  temptations 
may  be  diminished,  and  the  public-houses  so  improved 


28o     MEMORIES  DISCREET  AND  INDISCREET 

that  they  are  not  only  drinking  houses,  but  places 
where  wholesome  food  and  recreation  may  be  found. 

He  was  selected  preacher,  Cambridge,  in  1890  and 
1907,  Golden  Lectureship  1900.  Amongst  other  high- 
sounding  titles  he  is  Grand  Chaplain  of  Freemasons, 
Scotland  1883  and  England  1899,  and  author  of  various 
theological  books. 

Sir  West  Ridgeway  has  had  many  important  posts 
and  is  a  feom  diplomatist.  Of  his  many  appointments 
the  place  where  Lady  Ridgeway  was  happiest  was  in 
the  Isle  of  Man  when  her  husband  was  Governor.  I 
have  always  thought  the  time  when  he  was  Governor 
of  Ceylon  caused  the  final  breakdown  of  his  wife's 
health.  She  was  not  strong  enough  either  for  the 
climate  or  the  amount  of  entertaining  it  entailed.  I 
noticed  in  her  letters  after  our  present  King  and  Queen, 
then  Duke  and  Duchess  of  York,  were  staying  with 
them  that  she  spoke  of  always  feeling  tired,  there 
was  so  much  to  do  and  so  much  to  arrange. 

Rather  a  thrilling  ghost  story  was  told  to  me  by 
Lady  Ridgeway  of  certain  extraordinary  occurrences 
while  she  was  at  the  Under-Secretary's  Lodge  in  Dublin. 
I  should  not  like  to  say  I  am  a  believer  in  ghosts, 
neither  dare  I  say  I  am  not,  for  fear  I  should  see  one ; 
I  am  a  great  believer  in  spirits  being  near  us,  especially 
of  those  we  have  loved,  but  ghosts  !  I  don't  know 
what  to  say.  At  any  rate  Lady  Ridgeway  was  neither 
a  nervous  nor  imaginative  person,  and  she  told  me 
the  story  herself,  so  I  accept  it. 

She  slept  in  the  room  where  Lord  Frederick  Caven- 
dish had  been  brought  after  he  was  murdered.  Nothing 
unusual  occurred  until  the  time  I  have  already  spoken 
of  when  Sir  West  was  staying  at  Barons  Court  and 
Lady  Ridgeway  had  not  been  well  enough  to  go  with 
him.  While  he  was  away  she  arranged  that  her  maid 
should  sleep  in  her  room  in  a  temporary  bed  arranged 
at  the  foot  of  her  own.  As  nearly  as  I  can  remember 
the  story,  she  was  suddenly  awakened  one  night  by 
her  bedroom  door  bursting  open  with  considerable 
violence  as  though  some  gale  of  wind  had  done  it, 


THE  TENNYSONS  AND  OTHERS        281 

which  could  not  have  been  the  case  as  there  was  no 
wind.  After  the  door  had  been  burst  open,  steps  were 
heard  going  down  the  passage ;  the  maid  got  up  and 
looked  down  the  passage  to  see  who  it  was,  but  saw 
nobody,  and  they  went  to  bed  again,  locking  the  door. 
The  next  night  they  locked  the  door  to  begin  with, 
the  same  thing  happened,  so  the  next  day  it  was 
arranged  that  one  of  their  private  detectives,  con- 
sidered necessary  while  in  Ireland,  should  sleep  in 
the  dressing-room  opposite,  where  he  could  watch  the 
door  and  see  if  anybody  came  along  the  passage.  All 
was  quiet  until  early  morning,  when  the  door  was 
burst  open  with  such  violence  that  the  detective 
rushed  to  see  what  had  happened  and  followed  the 
footsteps  along  the  passage  up  the  servants'  staircase 
to  an  attic  over  their  rooms.  Every  corner  was 
searched,  even  empty  boxes  turned  inside  out  and  upside 
down,  but  nothing  was  ever  found  to  account  for  it. 
The  servants  heard  the  footsteps,  the  nervous  ones 
gave  notice,  the  brave  remained. 

Up  to  the  time  I  was  told  this  story  I  had  been 
under  the  impression  ghosts  were  the  outcome  of 
heavy  dinners  or  suppers  and  poor  digestions  ;  but 
now,  hearing  this  story,  I  have  been  more  reserved 
in  my  judgments. 

The  detectives  were  unable  to  make  anything  out 
of  it  but  were  certain  of  the  occurrence. 

When  the  Duke  of  Clarence  was  taken  ill  it  was 
feared  at  first  that  some  oysters  eaten  when  dining 
with  the  Ridgeways  had  been  the  cause  of  the  mis- 
chief ;  this  worried  them  very  much,  but  it  was 
afterwards  proved  beyond  doubt  that  they  were 
eaten  elsewhere.  I  asked  Colonel  Stanley  Clarke  if 
he  thought  Queen  Alexandra  was  quite  satisfied  on 
this  point,  and  he  said  '*  Quite." 

On  Sunday  afternoons  in  Ireland  Lady  Ridgeway 
used  to  play  for  her  daughter  and  her  little  friends 
to  sing  their  favourite  hymns,  each  choosing  the 
one  she  liked  best.  When  it  came  to  the  turn  of  one 
of  the  children  staying  there  to  name  the  hymn  she 


282     MEMORIES  DISCREET  AND  INDISCREET 

desired  the  number  could  not  be  remembered,  but  the 
child  said  she  knew  it  was  about  ''  Child  She-Bears." 
This  puzzled  the  accompanist,  who  could  not  think 
of  any  hymn  that  referred  to  anything  of  the  kind, 
but  at  last  it  dawned  upon  her  it  was  the  hymn  that 
has  a  verse  in  which  the  following  appears  : 

"  Can  a  woman's  tender  care 
Cease  toward  the  child  she  bare  ?  " 

The  child  who  asked  for  this  hymn  was  one  of  the 
Dundas's,  I  forget  which,  but  think  it  was  the  present 
Lady  Fitzwilliam  of  Went  worth- Woodhouse. 


CHAPTER  XIX 

MR.    JAMES   LOWTHER 

Mr.  James  Lowther,  His  Father's  Valet — Member  for  York — Of  Jockey 
Club — Stockton  and  Redcar  Races — His  Best  Horses — Their 
Triumphs — Gimcrack  Speeches — A  Row — Lord  Durham  and  the 
Bishop — Mr.  Lowther 's  Tailor — The  Hon.  Jim  Orders  Trousers — 
The  Tailor  Offended— A  Tiff  With  Sir  William  Harcourt— Be- 
friends a  Lady  in  York — Sir  George  WombwcU  at  Balaclava — The 
Ferry  Boat  Accident — Saved  by  a  Friend — Sir  Joseph  Pease — His 
Wealth — Workmen — Misfortune. 

OF  my  old  Yorkshire  friends,  I  think  I  have 
I  missed  James  Lowther  more  than  any.  He 
was  my  prop  and  stay  in  all  business  matters, 
ready  to  help  at  all  times  with  suggestions  in  con- 
nection with  farms,  tenants,  investments,  quarrelsome 
relations,  and  any  such-like  workaday  matters. 

After  meeting  him  I  always  felt  as  though  I  had 
been  at  the  seaside  in  a  strong  breeze  which  left  me 
refreshed.  I  have  several  nice  photographs  of  him, 
but  none  picture  him  so  naturally  as  the  gifted  ''  Spy  " 
of  Vanity  Fair  fame.  I  think  this  one  of  **  The  Hon. 
Jim  ''  is  among  the  best,  it  exactly  portrays  him  as 
I  have  seen  him  hundreds  of  times.  The  reason  I  sc 
often  like  Vanity  Fair  cartoons  in  preference  to  photo- 
graphs is  that  ''  Spy's  ''  gift  of  catching  the  little 
intimate  peculiarities  of  people  is  most  happy.  No 
photographer  could  hope  to  vie  with  him  ;  in  the  first 
place  they  would  not  have  the  opportunity  of  catching 
their  clients  at  the  right  moment,  in  the  midst  of 
their  pleasures  and  pursuits ;  and  in  the  second  place, 
none  look  their  best  when  told  to  smile  and  look 
pleasant. 

I  rather  wish  *'  Spy  "  had  pictured  Mr.  Lowther 
riding  in  the  Row,  as  I  have  ridden  with  him  many 
times,  not  in  smart  breeches  and  boots,  but  in  Oxford 


284     MEMORIES  DISCREET  AND  INDISCREET 

shoes,  socks  innocent  of  suspenders  and  drooping  over 
his  shoes,  flannelly-looking  trousers  riding  up  his  leg, 
coat-tails  flying,  and  hat  well  on  the  back  of  his  head. 
I  cannot  remember  the  time  I  did  not  know  him  ;  his 
people  lived  near  us  in  Yorkshire.  His  father,  dear 
old  Sir  Charles  Lowther,  was  blind,  with  quantities  of 
snow-white  hair,  and  a  saintly  character  which  was 
written  on  his  face. 

In  his  innocent  way  he  would  express  himself 
curiously  at  times,  causing  people  to  smile,  but  quite 
unconscious  that  he  had  said  anything  odd,  and  of 
course,  knowing  nothing  of  the  smiles.  When  I  was  a 
little  child  he  used  to  hold  my  hand  with  one  of  his 
and  pat  it  with  the  other  while  speaking,  in  rather  a 
fascinating  way,  and  he  never  lost  this  habit,  even 
after  I  was  grown  up. 

Perhaps  to  the  blind  we  never  do  grow  up.  Both 
Sir  Charles  and  Lady  Lowther  were  gentle- voiced, 
quiet-mannered  people.  Their  youngest  son  James 
was  loud-voiced,  genial,  jovial,  rough-mannered  and 
astoundingly  cheery  as  I  have  already  indicated,  albeit 
unassuming  and  natural,  no  side,  no  cheap  swagger. 

Sir  Charles  had  a  valet  who  went  everywhere  with 
him,  standing  behind  his  chair  at  dinner-parties  to  cut 
up  his  dinner  and  look  after  him  generally.  The  man 
was  of  curious  appearance,  but  an  excellent  servant. 
He  had  neither  eyebrows  nor  eyelashes,  which  gave 
him  a  scraped  look,  and  he  wore  a  wealth  of  wig.  Of 
what  colour  shall  I  say,  I  wonder?  for  I  never  saw 
anything  quite  like  it.  Perhaps  the  nearest  I  can  get 
to  it  is  a  cross  between  buff  and  red.  As  children  we 
always  used  to  hope  that  something  would  happen 
to  knock  it  off  or  disarrange  it.  One  day  something 
of  the  sort  did  happen.  There  was  a  big  luncheon- 
party,  the  valet  stood  behind  his  master's  chair,  and  in 
the  hurry  of  servants  passing  backwards  and  forwards 
someone  cannoned  into  the  man  and  shot  his  wig  side- 
ways over  one  eye ;  we  nearly  shouted  with  joy. 

My  mother  sometimes  took  me  with  her  when  she 
was  paying  calls.     I  always  found  it  rather  dull  at 


MR.  JAMES  LOWTHER  285 

Wilton,  as  the  Lowthers  had  no  young  people  any- 
where near  my  own  age.  If  Mr.  James  Lowther  was 
at  home  he  took  me  to  see  the  horses  in  the  stables  and 
paddocks,  or  into  the  garden  to  eat  fruit.  If  he  was 
not  there,  I  was  either  sent  into  the  garden  by  my 
lone  self,  while  the  old  ladies  talked  secrets,  or  I  sat 
and  listened  to  their  conversation.  I  could  not 
always  understand  what  they  were  talking  about ; 
whenever  my  mother  asked,  **  And  how  is  Mrs.  George 
Lowther  ?  "  the  answer  never  seemed  to  vary,  *'  Oh, 
thank  you,  she  is  a  little  busy  just  now.''  I  wondered 
what  she  was  always  so  busy  about,  she  did  not  seem 
a  very  strenuous  person.  At  last  I  discovered,  when  a 
little  older,  that  it  was  Lady  Lowther 's  delicate  way  of 
explaining  that  the  family  was  being  augmented,  time 
after  time,  in  the  hope  a  son  would  put  in  an  appear- 
ance, which  in  time  he  did,  so  all  was  well.  It  has  now 
become  quite  a  family  expression — '*  Being  a  little 
busy  !  " 

Jim  Lowther  was  a  man  of  considerable  ability,  but 
not  highly  educated.  One  of  those  naturally  idle  men 
who  worked  very  hard,  always  in  a  hurry,  yet  never 
excited,  indeed  particularly  level-headed.  Whether 
his  education  was  inferior,  or  his  powers  of  imbibing 
information  deficient,  I  do  not  know,  but  at  Winchester 
and  Cambridge  he  did  nothing  brilliant ;  however, 
thanks  to  ability,  which  he  showed  when  he  chose  to 
exert  himself,  kind  relations  and  some  ambition,  it 
was  not  long  before  he  was  doing  useful  work.  At 
twenty-five  he  was  returned  as  Member  for  York, 
where  he  was  exceedingly  popular.  A  bold  speaker, 
rough  and  original,  listened  to  with  respect,  and  a 
strong  Conservative,  he  soon  made  a  name  for  him- 
self, and  occasionally  rapped  out  a  successful  epigram. 

In  the  racing  world,  Mr.  Lowther  was  a  great  man, 
a  few  more  like  him  are  badly  needed.  He  was 
elected  a  member  of  the  Jockey  Club  when  thirty-seven 
and  in  1883  served  in  the  capacity  of  steward  during 
the  time  the  present  Duke  of  Richmond  (then  Lord 
March)  and  the  late  Lord  Cadogan  were  also  in  offige, 


286     MEMORIES  DISCREET  AND  INDISCREET 

a  grand  combination  of  great  sportsmen.  It  has  often 
been  averred  that  the  Turf  never  saw  Mr.  James 
Lowther's  equal  for  conducting  its  affairs,  yet  he  never 
seemed  to  fall  out  with  anybody.  As  an  owner  of  race- 
horses he  never  held  very  high  order.  Perhaps  his 
best  horses  were  ''  King  Monmouth/'  '*  King  Olf/' 
"  Cheroot  "  and  ''  Thuringian  Queen.''  The  first  of 
these  won  for  him  the  best  three-year-old  race  his 
colours  were  ever  successful  in,  namely,  the  Great 
Yorkshire  Stakes  at  York  in  1885.  He  never  won  a 
classic  race,  which,  however,  did  not  disturb  him  in 
the  least.  He  loved  the  sport  and  thoroughly  enjoyed 
the  quiet  little  meetings  he  had  done  so  much  to 
establish  at  Redcar  near  his  home — Wilton  Castle, 
which  stands  in  full  view  of  the  high  road  a  few  miles 
from  Redcar.  As  a  child  I  thought  it  exactly  like  the 
castles  on  the  gingerbread  we  used  to  eat,  and  I  think 
so  still. 

There  used  to  be  great  parties  at  Wilton  and  in  all 
the  country  houses  of  the  neighbourhood  for  Stockton 
and  Redcar  races.  We  should  all  have  felt  something 
was  wrong  if  Mr.  James  Lowther  had  failed  to  put  in 
an  appearance  at  either  of  them.  Lord  Londonderry 
at  Wynyard,  Lord  Zetland  at  Marske  and  the  Lowthers 
were  the  making  of  these  two  meetings,  which  provided 
the  country-side  with  an  excuse  for  sociable  merry- 
making. Everybody  wanted  to  capture  Mr.  Lowther 
for  luncheon,  he  was  so  cheery.  People  used  to  speak 
of  the  *'  Yorkshire  Autumn  Tour  ''  when  referring  to 
the  meetings  at  Redcar,  Stockton,  York  and  Don- 
caster,  and  a  very  popular  tour  it  has  always  been. 

Mr.  Lowther  bred  a  few  horses  at  Wilton,  but  none 
of  them  did  anything  great.  Not  being  a  rich  man  he 
could  not  afford,  nor  would  he  have  cared,  to  give  long 
prices  for  them.  He  would  dearly  have  liked  to  win 
a  Classic  with  a  horse  of  his  own  breeding,  but  to  buy 
a  horse  and  pay  a  long  price  for  him  to  win  one  of  those 
races  would  not  have  appealed  to  him  at  all,  he  told  me 
so  more  than  once,  but  he  always  hoped  that  one  of 
his  own  breeding  might,  on^  day,  distinguish  itself. 


MR.  JAMES  LOWTHER  287 

He  always  declared  he  was  not  a  ladies'  man,  but  I  do 
not  think  I  quite  agree  with  him.  He  did  not  often 
go  to  dances  certainly,  although  I  have  seen  him  doing 
his  duty  in  the  '*  Square  "  dances  of  those  days  some- 
times, not  knowing  one  figure  from  another  and  having 
to  be  pushed  to  get  him  through. 

I  do  not  quite  know  what  constitutes  a  ladies'  man, 
but  he  appreciated  beauty,  and  still  more  wit,  and  he 
had  many  friendships  among  the  women  of  his 
acquaintance,  and  one  great  attachment  which  lasted 
nearly  all  his  life.  She  was  not  good-looking  but  very 
charming  and  witty.  Although  he  never  gossiped  and 
seldom  said  anything  unkind,  he  loved  to  hear  all  the 
'*  on-dit  '*  repeated  to  him,  they  amused  him. 

There  used  to  be  a  number  of  very  handsome  women 
at  those  North  Country  meetings.  Lady  Londonderry, 
now  the  dowager,  dark  and  handsome  :  Lady  Zetland, 
with  such  wonderful  colouring  it  earned  her  the 
soubriquet  of  **The  White-heart  Cherry."  Mrs. 
George  Lowther  tall  and  handsome.  Mr.  Lowther 
fluttering  about  amongst  them  all. 

One  of  the  curious  things  about  him  was  that  while 
he  was  fond  of  horses  and  always  mixed  up  with 
them  and  their  performances,  he  was  not  a  great 
horseman.  His  hands  were  carried  somewhere  near 
his  chin,  elbows  flopping  up  and  down,  and  his  stirrups 
often  too  short. 

As  far  as  I  can  remember,  the  chief  races  won  by 
Mr.  Lowther  were  :    the  Grand  Yorkshire  Stakes  in 
1885 ;    the    Ebor    Handicap,    1889 ;    the    Yorkshire 
Handicap  at  Doncaster,  1889  ;    the  Northumberland 
Plate,    1890,   and   the   Ascot   Stakes,    1891.      *'  King 
Monmouth  "  was  considered  Mr.  Lowther 's  best  horse, 
but   it   was    '*  Cheroot,"    ''  Thuringian   Queen "   and 
**  King  Olf  "  that  placed  the  racing  halo  round  their 
owner's  head  in  Turf  history,  as  they  won  for  him  the 
noted  Yorkshire  Gimcrack  Stakes  as  follows  : 
1877,  ''  King  Olf  "—Archer. 
1884,  "  Thuringian  Queen  "—Watts. 
1888,  "  Cheroot  "— Woodburn. 


288     MEMORIES  DISCREET  AND  INDISCREET 

And  the  first-named  inaugurated  his  entry  as  member 
of  the  Jockey  Club. 

Being  Member  for  York  when  he  won  his  first 
Gimcrack,  this  gave  extra  weight  to  the  victory. 
Fred  Archer  being  in  the  saddle  made  it  still  more 
popular. 

Some  dinners  after  the  Gimcrack  wins  gave  birth 
to  speeches  dealing  with  the  question  of  curbing  the 
jockey's  betting,  and  some  other  little  indiscretions 
that  have  a  way  of  creeping  in  when  £  s.  d.  is  plentiful. 
These  speeches  by  degrees  grew  in  volume  and  fervour  ; 
ending  in  personalities  and  a  lawsuit,  Sir  George 
Chetwynd  versus  Lord  Durham.  Sir  George  objected 
to  certain  remarks  and  the  kettle  called  the  pot  black, 
the  pot  returned  the  compliment.  In  this  case  the 
tact  and  justice  of  Mr.  Lowther  was  displayed  ;  at  all 
times  a  splendid  arbitrator,  weighing  both  sides  with 
the  utmost  care,  sifting  patiently  until  he  gained  the 
exact  truth,  then  expressing  his  opinion  very  lucidly. 

Considering  the  amount  of  racing  Mr.  Lowther  did, 
and  it  was  seldom  that  he  missed  a  meeting  as  far  as  I 
could  judge,  it  was  astonishing  how  he  always  managed 
to  be  in  his  place  in  the  House  of  Commons  at  question 
time.  Between  politics  and  the  Turf,  he  put  in  a  lot 
of  useful  work. 

Mr.  Lowther  was  a  beautifully  ugly  man,  I  feel  I 
ought  to  give  a  photograph  of  him  in  his  Sunday-go- 
to-meeting  clothes  so  that  his  trousers  may  be  viewed, 
one  of  his  peculiarities  being  his  trousers.  To  look  at 
these  garments  one  would  have  thought  he  had  worn 
them  for  a  year  without  their  having  seen  the  trouser- 
press.  He  really  owned  an  unconscionable  number, 
all  absolutely  alike ;  this  he  insisted  on,  so  his  tailor — 
a  man  called  Miles  in  Bond  Street — kept  a  large  roll  of 
the  cloth  always  in  stock.  Vainly  Miles  used  to  try 
to  introduce  a  new  pattern,  but  could  find  little 
opportunity  of  expatiating  on  the  merits  of  material 
and  patterns  as  Mr.  Lowther  gave  him  no  time.  He 
would  pop  his  head  inside  the  door  saying  :  *'  Oh, 
Miles,  Fm  off  to  Goodwood  next  week,    §end  round 


MR.  JAMES  LOWTHER  289 

a  couple  of  pairs  of  the  old  pattern,  not  later  than 
Monday.    Don't  forget  as  I  can't  go  without  them." 

Now  Miles  was  a  typical  tailor  turfite,  full  of  con- 
versation and  pride,  having  seen  ''  Blair  Athol  "  win 
the  Derby,  but  the  summit  of  his  pride  lay  in  the 
knowledge  that  "  Jim  Lowther "  was  one  of  his 
customers  :  not  on  account,  certainly,  of  the  number 
of  clothes  he  ordered,  but  to  think  that  he  actually 
made  trousers  for  a  member  of  the  Jockey  Club,  and 
at  one  time  senior  member  !  This  indeed  filled  the 
sporting  tailor  with  joy  and  gladness  :  made  him  feel- 
a  man  of  repute — the  envy  of  other  tailors.  He  never 
tired  of  telling  people  how  well  he  knew  **  Jim 
Lowther."    The  following  true  story  is  rather  amusing. 

Miles  was  having  his  hair  cut  at  a  famous  hair- 
dresser's in  the  same  street,  and  was  indulging  in  a 
Uttle  chat  with  the  operator  explaining  that  he  had 
just  been  talking  to  a  Steward  of  the  Jockey  Club, 
who  had  been  in  ordering  clothes  for  Goodwood.  Now 
these  blase  hairdressers,  themselves  accustomed  to 
the  '*  highest  society,"  had  heard  these  stories  so  often 
from  Miles  that  they  concocted  a  dreadful  plot. 

"  Indeed  !  is  that  so  ?  "  replied  the  hairdresser 
innocently  in  accents  of  surprise  :  "  Then  I  take  it  you 
must  be  Mr.  Miles  ?  " 

*'  That  is  so  " — proudly  and  with  unction. 

Hair  dresser:  **Well,  as  he  is  going  in  for  cheap 
clothes,  it  surprises  me  that  he  does  not  go  to  your 
other  shop  in  Whitechapel,  as  when  I  was  passing 
there  this  morning  I  observed  outside  your  door  the 
notice  : 


GOING   AT   ONE    POUND 

MILES 

TROUSERS  REDUCED  AGAIN 


The  tailor  jumped  up  using  naughty  words  :    "  Sir  ! 
that  Miles  is  no  relation  of  mine.     Do  you  think  a 


290     MEMORIES  DISCREET  AND  INDISCREET 

gentleman  like  Mr.  Lowther,  a  Steward  of  the  Jockey 
Club,  would  deal  there  ?  I  will  never  have  my  hair 
cut  here  again  !  " 

Mr.  Lowther  was  walking  down  Bond  Street  one 
morning  with  Sir  William  Harcourt,  they  drifted  into 
rather  a  heated  political  argument,  the  former  having 
the  best  of  it,  which  ruffled  Sir  William,  who  on 
passing  Truefitt's  thought  he  would  end  the  interview, 
saying  suddenly,  **  I  want  my  hair  cut,''  and  bolting 
into  the  shop  leaving  Mr.  Lowther  surprised  and 
amused.  He  indulged  in  one  of  his  boisterous  and  at 
times  aggravating  laughs.  Sir  William  slammed  the 
door  to.  His  temper  was  a  trifle  ruffled  and  seeing 
a  hatless  man  handling  some  bottles  at  one  of  the 
counters  addressed  him  with,  '*  I  want  my  hair  cut''  ; 
the  individual  replied,  *'  Yes,  you  do  !  "  He  likewise 
was  waiting  to  have  his  hair  cut. 

At  York  during  one  of  the  election  times  Mr. 
Lowther  happened  to  come  into  Samson's  the  book- 
seller's in  Coney  Street  where  I  was  making  some 
purchases ;  we  left  the  shop  together.  Just  in  front  of 
us  was  a  stout  middle-aged  lady  strugghng  with  the 
door  of  her  brougham,  which  Mr.  Lowther  at  once 
opened  for  her.  As  she  stepped  into  the  carriage,  full 
of  smiles  and  thanks,  she  dropped  something;  for  a 
second  Mr.  Lowther  stood  back  viewing  it,  then 
picked  it  up  and  handed  it  to  its  owner,  saying,  ''  I 
think  you  have  dropped  something."  I  saw  a  look 
pass  over  the  lady's  face  of  doubt  as  to  whether  she 
should  acknowledge  the  ownership  or  repudiate  it,  but 
she  had  no  time  to  frame  any  diplomatic  inexactitude, 
so  meekly  said,  ''  Oh,  thank  you,"  and  threw  the 
thing  on  to  the  floor  of  the  carriage.  It  was  her  bustle, 
and  a  very  inartistic  one. 

When  Mr.  Lowther  returned  to  me  I  said,  "  How 
could  you  !  Why  did  you  not  pretend  you  did  not 
see  it  ?  " 

He  replied,  ''  My  charitable  feelings  got  the  better 
of  me,  I  thought  she  might  catch  cold  without  it." 

We  were  having  luncheon  in  the  station  refreshment- 


MR.  JAMES  LOWTHER  291 

room  a  little  later  and  Mr.  Lowther  joined  us.  We 
had  not  been  seated  long  before  the  door  opened  and 
the  lady  whom  he  had  so  lately  befriended  walked  in, 
but  the  moment  she  caught  sight  of  Mr.  Lowther  bolted 
out  again.    He  said  she  was  an  **  ungrateful  woman  !  " 

Mr.  Lowther  died  on  the  12th  of  September,  1904, 
aged  sixty-six.  Everybody  knew  him,  and  everybody 
liked  him.     Yorkshire  especially  mourned  his  loss. 

Another  well-known  Yorkshireman  was  Sir  George 
Womb  well  of  Newburgh  Priory.  The  smartest  of 
smart  men  ;  consumed  with  self-importance.  I  liked 
to  watch  him  walk  down  Piccadilly,  it  was  hardly  big 
enough  for  him,  yet  his  side  was  not  offensive,  on  the  con- 
trary it  was  rather  amusing,  and  he  was  as  far  removed 
from  a  snob  as  it  was  possible  to  be.  There  are  two 
kinds  of  snobs  ;  the  one  who  knocks  you  down  with 
his  money — *'  My  friend  the  Duke  "  and  '*  My  friend 
the  Prince,''  and  the  other,  who  is  such  a  snob  that  he 
is  afraid  to  mention  his  friends  or  relations  by  name,  or 
any  of  their  possessions,  for  fear  of  being  thought 
snobbish. 

Sir  George  Wombwell  was  neither  the  one  nor  the 
other,  but  perfectly  natural.  Possessed  of  an  here- 
ditary dignity,  he  carried  his  head  high,  and  walked 
through  life  as  though  he  were  a  person  of  importance, 
as  indeed  he  was,  being  in  a  position  to  do  many 
kindnesses  and  help  many  a  lame  dog  over  a  stile,  and 
he  did  not  forget  to  do  so.  His  friends  and  acquaint- 
ances were  not  chosen  from  any  one  set ;  being 
cosmopohtan  in  taste  :  he  numbered  among  them 
members  of  all  the  professions,  not  forgetting  the 
theatrical.  Perhaps  he  was  inclined  to  think  all  his 
geese  were  swans. 

I  have  seen  him  at  shows  jump  on  to  a  horse  he  did 
not  think  was  being  shown  to  the  best  advantage,  and 
ride  it  round  himself,  and  what  is  more,  with  con- 
spicuous success.  He  was  naturally  a  good  horseman, 
his  figure  and  weight  being  an  asset.  After  leaving 
Eton,  he  joined  the  17th  Lancers  and  was  with  them  in 
the  Crimea.    Lord  Cardigan  appointed  him  his  A.D.C. 


292     MEMORIES  DISCREET  AND  INDISCREET 

and  he  rode  beside  his  chief  in  the  charge  of  the  Light 
Brigade  at  Balaclava.  Two  horses  were  shot  under 
him,  and  he  only  escaped  by  his  alertness.  I  am  told 
Sir  George  was  the  Cornet  who  sounded  the  trumpet 
for  the  Balaclava  charge  (they  were  called  Cornets  in 
those  days),  but  his  brother  the  present  Sir  Henry 
Wombwell  tells  me  this  was  not  so,  Sir  George  always 
gave  him  to  understand  it  was  the  trumpeter  to  Lord 
Cardigan  who  did  so.  The  same  trumpeter  after  he 
left  the  service  was  for  years  a  messenger  at  the  Horse 
Guards. 

There  are  many  still  living  who  remember  the 
terrible  accident  in  1869  at  Newby  Ferry.  Sir  George 
was  out  with  the  York  and  Ainsty  that  day.  I  was 
not  there,  but  have  often  been  told  all  about  it. 
Hounds  were  running  hard,  and  crossed  the  river 
close  to  Newby  Hall.  A  crowd  of  followers,  including 
the  Master  and  Sir  George  Wombwell,  packed  into  the 
ferry-boat,  which  was  worked  by  a  chain.  Thirteen 
horses  and  eleven  men  were  in  the  boat  and  all  might 
have  been  well,  had  not  *^  Saltfish,''  the  horse  ridden 
by  the  Master,  kicked  at  Sir  George's  mount,  which 
tried  to  return  the  compliment.  '*  Saltfish,''  not 
liking  the  look  of  things,  promptly  jumped  overboard. 
The  river  was  in  full  flood,  and  in  their  efforts  to  save 
the  Master,  all  rushed  to  the  side  of  the  boat,  which 
capsized.  Men  and  horses  were  thrown  struggling 
into  the  water.  Sir  George  was  picked  up,  when  nearly 
exhausted,  by  Mr.  Henry  Vyner,  who  had  succeeded  in 
reaching  the  upturned  boat,  a  kindly  current  having 
washed  his  friend  near  to  him,  but  the  Master  was 
drowned. 

One  year,  when  the  Prince  of  Wales  attended  the 
Royal  Agricultural  Show  at  York,  having  heard  of  a 
famous  horse  dealer  named  Kirby,  who  lived  in  those 
parts,  he  asked  Sir  George  Wombwell  to  introduce  the 
man  to  him.  Kirby  was  sought,  found  and  led  into 
the  Royal  presence.  He  stood  timidly  with  hat  in 
hand  while  the  Prince  congratulated  him  on  his 
success  with  his  horses.    Kirby  stood  dumb,  wonder- 


MR.  JAMES  LOWTHER  293 

ing  desperately  what  was  the  proper  way  to  talk  to 
princes.  At  last,  deciding  that  something  with  a 
touch  of  easy  grace  would  be  best,  he  blurted  out  : 
''  'Ow's  your  Mother  ?  " 

A  certain  amount  of  flutter  and  excitement  was 
caused  at  one  time  by  Sir  George  asking  some  of  his 
theatrical  friends  to  stay  in  Scarborough,  where  he 
entertained  them.  The  very  prim  and  proper,  to 
whom  the  very  name  theatrical  was  like  a  red  flag  to 
a  bull,  said  they  were  shocked. 

The  last  time  I  saw  Sir  George  Wombwell  was  at 
Homburg,  standing  in  his  favourite  attitude  talking  to 
King  Edward  ;  elbows  stuck  out,  hand  on  side. 

The  York  and  Ainsty  hounds  were  hunted  by  him 
at  one  time,  and  they  were  turned  out  very  well.  It 
was  his  pleasure  and  his  glory  that  they  should  never 
have  been  '*  done  so  well.''  He  rode  boldly  to  hounds, 
yet  with  judgment,  was  fond  of  racing  but  never 
betted.  Nearly  always  wore  a  brown  and  white  tie — 
his  racing  colours  being  brown  with  white  spots  and  a 
white  cap.  I  have  heard  stories  of  foxes  having  been 
shot  on  the  Newburgh  country,  but  I  cannot  believe 
Sir  George  knew  anything  about  it,  he  loved  hunting. 

He  married  in  1861  Lady  Julia  Villiers,  daughter  of 
the  6th  Earl  of  Jersey  ;  and  lived  to  the  ripe  age  of 
eighty-three,  keeping  his  figure  to  the  end,  and 
looking  extraordinarily  young  for  his  years. 

There  are  many  more  Yorkshire  people  I  should  like 
to  write  about,  but  space  forbids.  I  cannot  pass  on, 
however,  without  mentioning  Sir  Joseph  Whitwell 
Pease.  I  should  not  know  the  Cleveland  hounds 
without  him.  He  was  nearly  always  out  with  a  large 
party  of  sons  and  daughters,  all  well  mounted.  I  wish 
for  no  cheerier  companion  to  ride  home  with  than  that 
interesting  man.  Both  he  and  the  entire  Clan  Pease 
were  Quakers.  I  loved  to  draw  him  out  on  the 
subjects  of  temperance  and  Home  Rule — either  of  them 
set  the  ball  rolling.  He  was  an  admirer  of  Pamell  and 
a  worshipper  of  Gladstone.  He  voted  for  the  Home 
Rule  Bill  on  the  occasion  of  its  defeat. 


294     MEMORIES  DISCREET  AND  INDISCREET 

The  name  of  Pease  in  the  North  used  to  convey  the 
idea  of  riches.  At  one  time  Sir  Joseph  was  a  very  rich 
man,  and  I  could  never  quite  understand  how  he  got 
into  such  trouble.  As  far  as  I  can  remember  there 
was  some  difficulty  over  a  trusteeship.  At  the  time 
I  remember  him  he  was  in  the  hey-day  of  his  success 
as  a  vast  coal  and  iron  master.  He  employed  five 
thousand  workmen  and  took  interest  in  their  lives, 
establishing  science  classes  for  their  benefit.  He  was  a 
kindly  man,  with  rather  a  patronising  manner.  He 
had  great  interests  in  the  railways  of  the  North,  and 
trade  generally  of  Durham.  I  used  to  wish  I  could 
travel  about  as  he  did,  without  a  ticket.  His  pretty, 
gentle  wife,  to  whom  he  was  much  attached,  died 
before  him.  I  am  glad  she  did  not  live  to  see  the 
crash. 


CHAPTER  XX 

VICTORIAN   WORTHIES 

A  Shooting  Expedition — Amateurish  Cooking — The  Quarrel — Straw- 
berry Jam  and  Wild  Goose — Sir  Edward  Bradford — Tiger  Shooting 
— And  the  Duke  of  Clarence — As  Commissioner  of  the  Police — 
Dissatisfaction  in  the  Force  —  Three  One-handed  Men  —  Sir 
Howard  Vincent  —  At  Sandhurst  —  Writes  to  the  Duke  of 
Cambridge — A  Soldier  War  Correspondent — At  the  Criminal  In- 
vestigation Department — Protects  Bigwigs  and  Royalties — Some 
"  Abject  Funks  " — Mr.  Gladstone  Tiresome — Sir  William  Harcourt 
Impatient — Arrest  of  Irish  Agitator — His  Exciting  Drive — Sir 
William  Harcourt's  Fish  Dinner — His  Disappointment — Sir  Howard 
Vincent's  New  Word  of  Command. 

ONE  shooting  expedition  I  went  with  my  lord 
)  and  master  in  India  remains  indehbly  im- 
pressed on  my  memory.  My  cooking  powers 
were  put  to  the  test  and  we  very  nearly  quarrelled 
over  our  arrangements.  The  fact  is  there  is  a  great 
art  in  preparing  game  and  poultry  for  the  table,  an 
experienced  person  does  it  in  a  minute,  while  the  in- 
experienced take  a  long  time  and  when  finished  there 
are  such  strange  holes  and  gaps  in  the  edibles  under 
discussion  that  they  are  hardly  recognisable. 

Everything  went  wrong  on  this  jaunt  from  the 
beginning.  The  servants  had  been  sent  on  ahead  with 
tents,  provisions,  and  such  comforts  as  we  allowed 
ourselves  when  shooting  and  on  the  march.  We 
arrived  at  our  first  day's  halting-place  expecting  to 
find  dinner  ready  and  tents  up.  There  was  no  sign  of 
anything  of  the  kind,  not  a  servant  in  sight.  Here 
was  a  pretty  kettle-of-fish.  I  was  tired  and  we  were 
both  very  hungry  ;  having  been  riding  for  six  hours. 

My  husband  said  if  we  waited  the  servants  would 
probably  turn  up,  so  we  unsaddled  our  ponies  and 
tethered  them  where  they  could  feed.     Night  came 

295 


296     MEMORIES  DISCREET  AND  INDISCREET 

and  no  servants,  there  was  nothing  for  it  but  to  sleep 
under  the  stars,  our  saddles  for  pillows.  The  ponies 
had  plenty  to  eat,  we  had  nothing  but  some  mangoes, 
the  common  kind  that  taste  of  turpentine.  There 
were  some  native  huts  not  far  away,  but  that  did  not 
help  us  much,  though  my  husband  promised  unheard-of 
presents  to  the  inhabitants  if  they  would  go  and  find 
the  servants.  The  natives  all  ran  off  in  different 
directions  to  search,  but  my  own  private  opinion  is 
they  did  not  go  far.  So  under  the  stars  and  a  glorious 
moon  we  lay  down  to  sleep,  if  we  could. 

It  did  not  take  my  husband  long  before  he  was  fast 
asleep.  It  took  me  some  time,  the  horses  fidgeted  and 
I  heard  strange  noises  and  footsteps. 

In  the  early  morning  our  servants  arrived,  with  a 
small  crowd  of  natives  from  the  huts  each  claiming 
the  promised  present,  declaring  they  had  been  the 
means  of  finding  our  servants.  My  good  man  grew 
exasperated  and  taking  up  his  whip  began  using  it 
right  and  left.  The  result  of  this  was  a  good  many 
ran  away  and  we  saw  them  no  more,  so  now  we  had 
to  continue  our  journey  with  three  only.  My  good 
man  was  refreshed  after  his  sleep.  I  was  a  sight,  as 
either  from  the  damp  or  many  mosquito  bites  I  could 
hardly  open  my  eyes.  My  whole  face  was  distorted  and 
when  I  tried  to  laugh  my  appearance  was  so  peculiar  it 
nearly  threw  my  man  into  convulsions.  But  it  is  no 
use  taking  notice  of  trifles  of  that  sort  when  out  for 
sport ;  it  is  all  part  of  the  show. 

All  went  well  after  this  until  there  was  another  row. 
As  we  reached  colder  climes  the  servants  were  dis- 
covered rolled  up  in  the  ponies'  blankets. 

This  was  certainly  annoying,  as  proper  warm  clothing 
had  been  provided  for  the  servants  to  wear  when  we 
reached  higher  altitudes.  What  they  said  was  their 
warm  things  had  been  stolen.  Now  we  were  left  with 
two  servants  who  swore  their  caste  forbade  them 
touching  game  or  food  for  us  to  eat,  and  we  were  far 
from  haunts  where  we  could  get  more  servants.  We 
had  some  tinned  provisions  and  my  man's  gun  had  to 


VICTORIAN  WORTHIES  297 

do  the  rest.  One  day  he  brought  in  what  looked  like 
a  wild  goose.  I  was  requested  to  cook  it.  I  said  I 
would  be  charmed  if  it  was  prepared  for  me,  but  as  the 
servants  would  not  touch  it,  it  was  against  their  caste, 
and  it  certainly  was  against  mine,  what  was  to  be  done  ? 
I  suggested  hanging  it  up  on  a  tree.  We  both  thought 
it  would  be  better  for  hanging  awhile  ! 

That  goose  got  on  my  mind.  I  could  not  tackle 
its  insides  even  if  I  succeeded  in  pulling  its  feathers 
off,  how  I  wished  some  kind  animal  would  come  in 
the  night  and  eat  it  up. 

At  last  my  husband  became  aggressive  over  it  and 
we  quarrelled.  I  declared  nothing  would  persuade 
me  to  touch  it  until  it  was  prepared  for  me,  and  he 
told  me  not  to  make  a  fool  of  myself,  but  **go  ahead 
and  cook  it.''  I  said,  'Xertainly,  if  you  do  not  mind 
it  being  cooked  with  its  insides  in,''  but  warned  him 
it  might  taste  a  little  strong  in  places  ! 

At  last  with  the  air  of  an  exasperated  martyr  he 
seized  the  bird  and  disappeared  with  it  behind  the 
tent  somewhere. 

I  heard  some  strange  language  and  things  being 
kicked  about. 

Something  in  the  air  seemed  to  tell  me  what  was 
taking  place,  and  I  thought  a  little  walk  further  afield 
might  be  pleasant  and  refreshing.  On  my  return  I 
was  met  by  a  tired,  hot-looking  husband  who  exclaimed, 
**  There's  the  damned  thing  !  " 

I  thanked  him  politely  and  went  to  see  the  result 
of  his  endeavour  ;  he  followed  me  at  a  respectful 
distance  twiddling  his  moustache  and  trying  to  look 
e  very  day  ish. 

When  I  beheld  the  bird,  to  keep  a  demure  face  was 
beyond  my  power  of  self-control,  but  I  kept  my  back 
to  my  husband  so  that  his  feelings  should  not  be  hurt, 
and  he  should  not  see  my  mirth,  but  something  gave 
me  away  and  he  said  angrily,  '*  Well,  what  are  you 
laughing  at,  why  didn't  you  do  it  yourself  if  you  could 
do  it  so  much  better  ?  " 

I  tried  to  draw  him  towards  me  while  I  was  shaking 


298     MEMORIES  DISCREET  AND  INDISCREET 

with  laughter ;  I  could  hardly  speak  my  amusement 
was  so  great  ;  but  he  would  have  none  of  my  blandish- 
ments and  wriggled  away,  so  I  followed  and  put  my 
hand  into  his  saying,  ''You  have  done  it  splendidly, 
but  you  must  allow  it  looks  ve-r-y  f-u-n-n-y  \  "  At 
last  he  laughed  too  and  we  mopped  our  eyes  between 
furtive  glances  at  the  bird,  which  presented  the  appear- 
ance no  bird  ever  presented  before.  The  wings  had 
been  chopped  off  close  to  its  sides,  little  bits  of  feathers 
here  and  there  stood  up  like  islands  between  strange 
gashes  and  gaps  ;  while  its  neck  had  grown  yards 
long.  It  was  Ipng  on  a  packing-case,  with  its  head 
and  lengthy  neck  hanging  over  the  edge  in  a  zigzag 
pattern.  I  gathered  he  had  fastened  its  head  with  a 
box  which  he  weighted  while  wrestling  with  its  feathers 
and  insides — ^he  must  have  pulled  very  hard  ! 

As  we  only  had  one  stew-pot  of  any  size  we  decided 
it  would  be  well  to  cut  up  the  pathetic-looking  bird 
and  stew  it. 

This  being  accomplished  I  thought  I  had  better 
wait  and  see  to  the  cooking,  the  natives  not  being  in 
love  with  the  dish,  and  it  would  be  a  pity  if  it  should 
be  spoilt  after  my  husband  taking  such  pains  with 
its  preparation. 

It  stewed  for  a  long  time  but  looked  and  tasted 
uninteresting,  it  required  something  to  make  it  piquant, 
red-currant  jelly  perhaps,  but  I  had  none  ;  but  there 
was  some  strawberry  jam  which  I  used,  it  was  the  saving 
of  that  dish  and  was  pronounced  '*  not  half  bad.'' 

Once  in  Scotland  long  ago,  when  shooting  in  an 
out-of-the-way  place,  it  fell  to  my  lot  to  have  to  cook 
a  rabbit.  It  was  prepared  for  me  by  the  keeper,  it 
looked  blue  and  horrid,  I  hastily  slipped  the  thing 
into  a  saucepan  and  shut  the  lid  down  quick.  Oh  ! 
it  was  amazingly  slippery.  I  tipped  some  water  out 
of  a  jug  under  one  side  of  the  Hd  so  that  I  should  not 
see  the  thing  again  and  put  it  on  to  cook.  After  a 
time  I  summoned  up  courage  enough  to  peep  at  it, 
and  was  deHghted  to  find  it  all  curled  up  and  com- 
fortable, looking  white  and  nice. 


VICTORIAN  WORTHIES  299 

Since  those  days  I  have  learned  to  cook  and  be  use- 
ful, every  woman  should  know  how  to  do  these  things, 
especially  if  fond  of  sport,  for  it  has  a  way  of  leading 
us  into  odd  places  and  throwing  us  on  our  own  resources. 

Sporting  expeditions  remind  me  of  one  when  Colonel 
Bradford  lost  his  arm,  while  tiger  shooting  at  Dilanpur, 
about  seventy  miles  from  Agar.  Many  people  in 
London  will  remember  the  smart  one-armed  little 
man  who  rode  about  the  streets  attending  to  his  duties 
while  Administrator  and  Commissioner  of  the  London 
Metropolitan  Police.  The  way  he  lost  his  arm  is  a 
thrilling  story  which  has  often  been  told  but  not 
always  correctly.  Hearing  there  was  a  man-eating 
tiger  in  the  neighbourhood  which  greatly  alarmed 
the  natives,  Colonel  Bradford  and  some  friends  went 
in  search  of  it,  each  selecting  a  line  some  distance 
apart,  and  the  beating  began.  The  Colonel  seated 
himself  in  the  fork  of  a  tree  too  near  the  ground,  the 
tiger  happened  to  come  his  way  and  within  range,  he 
shot  it,  the  animal  then  charged  and  the  sportsman 
fired  his  second  barrel,  but  a  twig  of  the  tree  got  into 
the  hammer  preventing  the  shot  being  effective,  there 
was  nothing  now  to  be  done  but  jump  down  and  rush 
for  a  ravine  or  nullah  as  it  is  called  out  there,  which 
was  near,  hoping  that  if  he  dived  into  the  water  he 
would  escape  the  tiger's  claws. 

Unfortunately  the  water  was  not  deep  enough,  it 
only  came  to  his  knees,  and  the  animal  sprang  at  him, 
to  save  his  throat  and  chest  he  thrust  his  left  arm  into 
the  animal's  throat,  which  it  was  crunching  when  help 
came  in  the  form  of  a  plucky  sportsman  named  Dulla, 
Colonel  Bradford's  gun-bearer,  who  took  aim  while 
close  to  the  beast,  the  Colonel  shouting,  "Mind  you 
shoot  the  tiger  and  not  me  !  "  Then  followed  the  long 
journey,  jolting  along  through  the  jungle  in  the  heat 
of  an  Indian  May  day  on  a  stretcher  improvised  for  the 
occasion.  A  camel  sowar  was  sent  off  in  haste  for  a 
doctor,  and  they  pushed  on  with  the  wounded  man  all 
through  the  night.  About  ten  o'clock  next  morning 
they  met  the  surgeon  galloping  towards  them.   Finding 


300     MEMORIES  DISCREET  AND  INDISCREET 

mortification  had  set  in,  an  immediate  operation 
became  necessary.  Dr.  Beaumont,  who  was  after- 
wards Deputy  Surgeon-General,  performed  the  opera- 
tion of  amputation  at  the  shoulder,  while  a  blanket 
was  held  over  the  patient  to  keep  off  the  scorching 
sun.  There  was  no  chloroform  or  convenience  for  such 
an  operation  and  it  was  performed  with  only  a  pocket 
case  of  instruments.  Dr.  Beaumont  said  the  shock 
would  have  killed  most  people,  and  it  was  Colonel 
Bradford's  pluck  that  pulled  him  through. 

Having  lost  one  arm  it  might  be  imagined  sport  was 
over  for  him,  but  this  was  by  no  means  the  case,  he 
had  many  enjoyable  days  pig-sticking  afterwards, 
catching  hold  of  the  reins  with  his  teeth  when  nearing 
the  pig,  thus  freeing  his  arm  for  the  use  of  the  spear. 

At  home  he  was  a  follower  of  the  hounds  in  Leicester- 
shire and  Oxfordshire  ;  being  a  light  weight  he  was 
easily  mounted. 

Thirty-four  years  of  his  life  were  spent  in  India 
holding  various  posts  of  importance.  Starting  at  the 
age  of  seventeen  in  the  Madras  Cavalry,  he  was  in  time 
to  take  part  in  the  Mutiny,  receiving  the  medal  and 
being  mentioned  in  despatches.  A  soldier  par  excel- 
lence but  compelled  by  the  circumstances  of  the  times 
in  India  to  become  a  politician  ;  though  for  ten  years 
he  gave  abundant  promise  of  a  brilliant  military 
career  :  his  men  had  confidence  in  him,  appreciating 
his  charm  of  manner  and  admiring  his  horsemanship. 

He  was  a  trifle  below  medium  height,  with  blue 
eyes,  a  gentle  voice  and  manner.  It  would  not  have 
been  easy  to  guess  from  his  appearance  that  he  was 
possessed  of  such  courage  and  physical  endurance.  As 
a  boy  he  had  been  so  delicate  he  was  unable  to  remain 
at  Marlborough  and  obliged  to  have  private  tutors. 

Sir  Edward  Bradford  was  in  charge  of  the  Police  in 
Bombay  when  in  1875  King  Edward  VII,  at  that  time 
Prince  of  Wales,  went  a  tour  through  the  North- West 
provinces.  Sir  Bar  tie  Frere,  a  former  Governor  of 
Bombay,  was  chief  of  the  personal  staff  of  the  Prince 
of  Wales  and  recommended  the  appointment  of  Major 


SIR    EDWARD    BRADFORD 


VICTORIAN  WORTHIES  301 

Bradford,  as  he  considered  very  special  precautions 
were  necessary  against  fanatics,  and  he  knew  no  one 
so  capable  of  dealing  with  this  feature  with  less  fuss 
and  worry  than  Major  Bradford.  Sir  Bartle  Frere 
therefore  suggested  he  should  be  in  constant  attend- 
ance on  H.R.H.  and  never  leave  him  throughout  his 
visit  in  India.  The  way  he  carried  out  his  duties 
throughout  this  visit  proved  Sir  Bartle  Frere 's  con- 
fidence had  not  been  misplaced.  The  quiet  unobtrusive 
little  figure  kept  a  close  watch  on  all  the  huge  crowd 
at  one  time  and  another  approaching  His  Royal 
Highness. 

Ever  after  this  the  Prince  took  an  interest  in  Sir 
Edward,  looking  upon  him  as  a  counsellor  and  friend ; 
this  was  proved  later  when  in  1889  King  Edward 
sent  for  Sir  Edward  and  asked  him  if  he  would  accept 
the  responsibility  of  accompanying  the  Duke  of 
Clarence  to  India.  Adding  kindly,  **  I  should  feel  no 
anxiety  about  my  son's  safety  if  I  knew  you  were  by 
his  side.'' 

Sir  Edward  therefore  accompanied  the  young  Duke, 
and  on  his  return  the  Queen  made  him  one  of  her 
A.D.C.'s,  as  an  expression  of  her  appreciation  of  his 
services. 

In  1885  Colonel  Bradford  was  knighted  and  in  1887 
returned  to  England  to  take  up  the  Secretaryship  of 
the  Secret  and  Political  Department  of  the  India 
Office,  and  in  the  spring  of  1890  was  appointed  Com- 
missioner of  Police  in  the  Metropolis,  which  he  held 
for  thirteen  years.  He  took  office  at  the  time  when 
the  police  were  dissatisfied  about  their  pensions, 
resulting  in  a  strike  amongst  them.  This  had  been 
brewing  before  Sir  Edward  took  office,  but  it  soon 
came  to  an  end,  for  he  acted  promptly,  dismissing  the 
thirty-nine  men  who  had  refused  to  go  on  duty,  and 
then  turned  his  attention  to  remedying  their  griev- 
ances. 

The  law  and  order  of  London  and  the  safety  of  the 
Royal  Family  rested  in  his  hands  on  several  great 
occasions.     There  was  the  Diamond  Jubilee  in  1897, 


302     MEMORIES  DISCREET  AND  INDISCREET 

after  which  the  Queen  sent  for  him  to  thank  him  for 
the  able  way  he  had  carried  out  his  duties.  Then 
there  was  the  funeral  of  Queen  Victoria  in  1901.  And 
the  Coronation  of  King  Edward  VII  in  1902. 

On  each  of  these  occasions  he  rode  at  the  head  of 
the  procession,  a  picturesque  little  figure  with  one 
empty  sleeve.  The  public  were  always  interested 
and  had  a  warm  corner  in  their  hearts  for  him,  the 
English  people  love  a  plucky  sportsman. 

Anxious  times  arrived  with  the  relief  of  Mafeking 
and  Ladysmith  ;  the  rejoicings  of  six  millions  of  people 
all  in  high  spirits  and  out  to  enjoy  themselves  required 
some  management,  to  safeguard  them  from  their  own 
frolics. 

It  was  about  this  time  I  met  him  one  afternoon  at 
a  crush  in  Eaton  Square.  He  asked  me  if  I  was  walking, 
and  if  so  might  he  come  part  of  the  way  home  with 
me.  I  was  charmed,  and  we  had  just  crossed  over 
from  St.  George's  Hospital  to  the  Park  side  of  Piccadilly 
when  we  saw  thundering  towards  us  a  runaway  horse 
in  a  hansom  cab.  Two  very  frightened-looking  men 
inside,  and  the  driver  nearly  on  top  of  the  vehicle  in 
his  endeavours  to  stop  the  horse.  We  stood  for  a 
moment  to  see  what  was  going  to  happen  as  the  road 
was  covered  with  traffic.  With  an  awful  crash  the 
horse  ran  straight  into  the  refuge  in  the  middle  of  the 
road,  where  it  fell  down  amidst  wreckage  of  sorts. 

The  two  men  inside  the  cab  executed  the  most 
wonderful  somersaults  and  arrived  one  each  side  of 
the  refuge  on  their  feet,  each  with  a  black  bag  in  his 
hand,  and  each  without  his  hat.  It  was  like  a  well- 
rehearsed  pantomime  trick. 

Sir  Edward  had  dashed  to  the  assistance  of  the  man 
nearest  to  us,  who  was  looking  very  dazed,  and  tried 
to  relieve  him  of  his  bag  and  give  him  a  hand  to  the 
pavement.  This  was  fiercely  resented  and  Sir  Edward 
seized  by  the  collar  and  told  he  was  a  thief  and  a  few 
other  things.  I  was  so  taken  up  at  first  looking  at 
the  poor  horse  and  seeing  what  I  could  do  to  help  it, 
I  did  not  see  half  the  amusing  scene  between  the  late 


VICTORIAN  WORTHIES  303 

hansom-cab  occupant  and  the  Chief  of  the  Pohce, 
who  was  being  handed  over  to  the  charge  of  one  of 
his  own  constabulary  for  trying  to  rob  the  man  of 
his  bag. 

A  few  days  later  I  heard  from  Sir  Edward  that  the 
two  men  were  lawyers  and  had  their  bags  full  of 
important  documents,  and  it  was  much  to  their  credit 
the  way  they  stuck  to  the  bags  through  such  a  toss  ; 
and  we  had  a  good  laugh  over  the  whole  incident. 

In  1892  Sir  Edward  was  made  a  Baronet,  and  in 
1903  retired.  He  was  then  appointed  Equerry  to 
King  Edward,  acting  in  the  same  capacity  for  King 
George  in  1910. 

When  on  his  way  home  from  India  he  was  wrecked 
in  the  P.  and  O.  Tasmania  off  Corsica  and  was  ordered 
into  the  boat  with  the  women  and  children  but  refused 
to  go.  He  clung  to  some  of  the  wreckage  for  hours 
with  his  one  arm,  being  eventually  picked  up  by  a 
yacht  and  taken  to  Ajaccio. 

Sir  Edward  Bradford  had  great  personal  charm 
and  I  quite  agree  with  my  old  friend  Sir  Owen  Burne 
who  said,  "  Nothing  can  §poil  Bradford,  he  is  un- 
spoilable  '' — and  it  is  a  privilege  to  have  known  him. 

It  is  wonderful  what  resolute  plucky  people  can  do 
with  one  hand.  One  of  Sir  Edward's  greatest  friends 
in  India  was  a  one-armed  man — a  Mr.  Lane,  he  happened 
to  be  one  of  the  tiger-shooting  party  when  Sir  Edward 
lost  his  arm.  Mr.  Lane  had  lost  his  when  only  nineteen 
years  of  age;  notwithstanding  this  he  finished  his 
education  for  the  Civil  Service  and  East  India  Com- 
pany, passed  his  exam,  and  went  out  to  India,  being 
magistrate  in  the  N.W.P.  through  the  Mutiny,  and  did 
such  good  service  that  he  was  rewarded  with  the 
Mutiny  medal. 

Another  one-armed  man  was  General  Sir  Henry 
Hardinge,  grandfather  of  the  late  Viceroy  of  India. 
The  General  lost  one  hand  at  the  battle  of  Quatre 
Bras,  just  before  Waterloo,  and  had  his  arm  injured 
by  a  French  cannon-ball.  I  think  he  was  the  only 
one-handed  Viceroy  India  has  had. 


304     MEMORIES  DISCREET  AND  INDISCREET 

Sir  Edward  died  quite  suddenly  from  angina  pectoris 
on  May  13th,  191 1. 

Sir  Howard  Vincent  had  retired  from  the  Criminal 
Investigation  Department  before  Sir  Edward  Brad- 
ford was  appointed  as  Chief  Commissioner.  I  think 
Sir  Howard  Vincent,  who  was  plain  Mr.  when  first  I 
knew  him,  was  one  of  the  most  astounding  people  I 
ever  met ;  full  of  feverish  activity,  a  determination 
to  make  his  name,  never  happy  unless  hard  at  work, 
interested  in  everything,  gifted  with  a  wonderfully 
tenacious  memory,  and  a  charming  way  of  establishing 
definite  and  intimate  relationships  and  friendships 
after  a  comparatively  short  acquaintance. 

The  annoying  thing  was  nobody  would  take  him 
seriously  ;  I  think  it  was  because  he  felt  he  was  not 
appreciated  that  made  him  so  restless,  unable  to  stick 
to  anything  for  long. 

One  of  his  most  delightful  characteristics  was  his 
unswerving  devotion  to  his  parents  ;  all  his  life  he 
made  a  habit  of  writing  on  Sunday  to  either  his  father 
or  his  mother,  not  scrappy  bits  but  long  epistles  telling 
them  of  his  doings,  hopes  and  fears,  and  withal  so 
naive,  holding  nothing  in  reserve,  pointing  out  his 
own  ability,  his  charity,  how  devoted  to  him  certain 
people  were,  his  financial  prospects — ^in  fact  laid  bare 
his  life  to  them,  often  asking  their  advice. 

His  audacity  was  really  profound.  When  a  youth 
at  Sandhurst  he  wrote  a  letter  of  complaint  to  the 
Duke  of  Cambridge  about  certain  matters  he  con- 
sidered required  attention  and  improvement ;  after 
he  had  sent  it  off  he  worried  himself  nearly  into  fits 
wondering  what  the  Commander-in-Chief  would  say. 
Happily  no  answer  was  received.  After  Sandhurst, 
he  joined  the  Royal  Welsh  Fusiliers  and  said  he  found 
it  hard  to  make  both  ends  niieet  with  the  small  allow- 
ance his  people  were  able  to  give  him,  he  could  not 
afford  to  do  as  many  of  his  brother  officers  did,  but 
he  did  not  mind  that,  he  was  determined  not  to  spend 
more  than  he  had  got. 

Whenever  he  could  get  leave  he  spent  it  learning 


VICTORIAN  WORTHIES  305 

languages,  he  actually  asked  for  six  months'  leave  to 
enable  him  to  go  to  Italy  for  that  purpose,  he  did 
not  receive  much  encouragement.  That  was  a  time 
when  it  was  not  the  fashion  to  encourage  initiative  or 
study  in  young  officers.  Nevertheless  he  was  a  great 
linguist. 

I  wish  I  had  space  to  recount  the  story  of  how  he 
became  War  Correspondent  of  The  Daily  Telegraph, 
it  was  a  fine  piece  of  what  the  schoolboys  call  *'  cheek." 
All  the  preparations  were  made  and  the  paper  arranged 
for  him  to  be  attached  to  the  Crown  Prince  of  Prussia's 
Staff  when  war  broke  out  between  Germany  and 
France.  To  his  bitter  disappointment  at  the  last 
moment  he  was  not  allowed  to  go,  the  Military  authori- 
ties at  home  feared  as  England  might  be  drawn  into 
the  row  every  officer  ought  to  be  at  home  at  his  post. 

Sir  Howard  was  always  so  full  of  anxiety  to  repay 
his  people  for  all  the  money  they  had  spent  on  his 
education.  My  own  opinion  is  he  educated  himself, 
he  was  always  studying  something.  Nothing,  how- 
ever, made  him  downhearted,  he  now  returned  to  his 
regiment  and  wrote  articles  for  a  number  of  papers 
exposing  the  wrongs  and  injustices  of  the  Service 
according  to  his  views.  It  makes  me  tremble  to  think 
of  the  audacity  of  a  young  subaltern  writing  to  the 
papers  in  this  way.  I  should  have  imagined  he  would 
have  been  suppressed  once  and  for  ever. 

Mr.  Vincent  had  an  unusual  way  of  telling  amusing 
stories  against  himself  that  was  most  refreshing.  He 
was  a  curious  mixture  of  modesty  and  self-confidence. 
I  never  met  him  without  hearing  of  some  scheme  he 
was  full  of.  At  one  time  when  in  Ireland  with  his 
regiment,  he  was  in  a  ferment  over  a  scheme  he  had 
conceived  for  settling  the  Home  Rule  difficulties  to 
the  mutual  satisfaction  of  all  parties  ;  being  so  carried 
away  with  fervour  that  he  made  some  injudicious 
speeches  on  the  subject.  The  Irish  people  were 
delighted  with  him  and  the  local  papers  printed  his 
utterances,  amongst  which  appeared  part  of  his  wonder- 
ful scheme,  and  the  expression  of  his  belief  that  the 


3o6     MEMORIES  DISCREET  AND  INDISCREET 

Irish  people  had  just  cause  for  grievance  and  dis- 
content ;  that  the  British  parHament  undoubtedly 
neglected  their  interests.  Amongst  other  things  by 
his  scheme  there  would  be  no  Lieutenant-Governors 
of  Ireland,  he  saw  no  use  in  them,  but  instead  he  would 
have  a  Prince  of  Royal  Blood  reside  there  permanently. 

Out  hunting  next  day  Mr.  Vincent  was  pained  and 
surprised  that  Lord  Spencer  cut  him  dead.  At  the 
moment  he  was  a  little  upset  about  this,  but  soon 
settled  the  matter  in  his  own  mind,  and  owing  to  the 
little  unpleasantness  decided  to  leave  the  Service. 

There  was  some  friction  and  disturbance  at  Scotland 
Yard  about  this  time  in  connection  with  the  Turf 
Fraud  Scandal.  Mr.  Vincent  felt  certain  this  would 
lead  to  a  new  appointment  and  thought  he  would  try 
for  it,  so  hurried  off  to  Paris  and  other  capitals  and 
studied  their  detective  systems.  This  combined  with 
his  knowledge  of  many  languages  he  hoped  would 
''  win  him  the  trick,''  and  it  did,  with  the  assistance 
of  some  of  his  friends  whom  he  looked  up  ;  he  now 
blossomed  out  into  Director  of  Criminal  Investigation, 
drawing  £1100  a  year. 

I  remember  the  amount  of  witticism,  criticism  and 
chaff  that  flew  about  when  the  announcement  of  this 
appointment  appeared  in  the  daily  papers.  Mr. 
Vincent  was  most  good-tempered  over  it,  he  never 
resented  criticism. 

He  once  gave  me  an  amusing  account  of  his  endea- 
vours to  protect  people.  He  was  always  most  anxious 
when  foreign  Royalties  were  staying  in  England  and 
knew  no  rest  until  they  were  safely  away  from  our 
shores  again.  He  said  the  Queen  (Victoria)  was  always 
nervous  on  Constitution  Hill,  having  once  been  fright- 
ened there  in  1850,  and  that  many  high  personages 
he  knew  (and  he  gave  me  some  names),  while  pretend- 
ing to  be  very  brave  and  fearless  were  ''  really  abject 
funks.''  But  Mr.  Gladstone  was  tiresomely  fearless, 
and  he  had  to  implore  him  for  the  sake  and  credit  of 
the  Force  to  be  careful.  Once  when  Mr.  Vincent  had 
received  word  that  the  Prime  Minister's  life  was  to  be 


VICTORIAN  WORTHIES  307 

taken,  he  wished  to  warn  the  proposed  victim,  but 
knowing  his  disUke  of  being  accompanied  or  taking 
any  sort  of  care,  and  how  snappy  he  became  when  any 
such  suggestions  were  put  forward,  Mr.  Vincent  asked 
Sir  Wilham  Harcourt,  then  Home  Secretary,  to  speak 
to  him  and  tell  him  there  was  a  plot  against  his  life. 
Sir  William,  however,  was  not  inclined  to  do  anything 
of  the  kind,  and  said,  *'  Tell  him  yourself,''  and  this 
he  had  to  do.  Mr.  Gladstone  was  cross,  and  asked, 
**  What  do  you  want  me  to  do  ?  ''  Mr.  Vincent  suc- 
ceeded in  extracting  a  promise  not  to  go  about  un- 
accompanied and  that  he  would  drive  instead  of  walk 
for  a  time  ;  but  in  a  very  few  days  he  lapsed  again, 
and  went  about  as  usual,  walking  and  alone. 

During  the  time  Mr.  Vincent  held  this  appointment 
from  1878  to  1884  there  were  some  momentous  occa- 
sions for  him  to  deal  with.  The  terrible  murder  of 
Lord  Frederick  Cavendish,  the  arrest  of  Davitt  and 
many  others.  Mr.  Vincent's  account  of  the  Davitt 
day  was  most  exciting  and  he  seemed  to  have  enjoyed 
it  thoroughly. 

He  had  given  orders  for  Davitt  to  be  arrested  in 
Ireland  just  before  the  train  started  in  which  he  was 
to  travel.  All  went  well  and  Mr.  Vincent  had  a  carriage 
and  guard  of  honour  awaiting  the  arrival  of  the  train 
at  Willesden  Junction  with  police  officers  in  plain 
clothes  hiding  in  a  place  near,  mounted  men  in  plain 
clothes  round  the  comer,  all  armed  with  revolvers  and 
ammunition  in  case  of  a  row. 

I  should  think  poor  Mr.  Davitt  had  the  drive  of 
his  Hfe,  for  he  was  bundled  into  the  carriage  and  all 
galloped  madly  to  Bow  Street,  where  an  equally 
excited  magistrate  awaited  them.  In  a  few  moments 
the  necessary  business  was  transacted,  and  Davitt  then 
had  another  mad  gallop  the  whole  way  to  Millbank ;  the 
agitated  agitator,  well  shaken  up,  was  safe  in  prison  at 
last.    It  was  all  very  exciting  and  Johnny  Gilpinny. 

I  once  asked  Mr.  Vincent  if  he  found  Sir  William 
Harcourt  (at  that  time  Home  Secretary)  pleasant  to 
work  with.    The  following  was  the  reply. 


3o8     MEMORIES  DISCREET  AND  INDISCREET 

''  Speaking  generally  he  was  very  pleasant  to  work 
with,  but  at  times  difficile  and  very  impatient.  If 
things  did  not  work  quite  smoothly  and  come  off  at 
the  expected  moment  he  would  turn  and  rend  me, 
saying,  '  Then  what  use  are  you  ?  What  are  the 
police  for  ?  '  He  also  was  inclined  to  worry  too  much 
about  details,  he  wanted  to  know  what  I  was  going 
to  do  and  how  I  was  going  to  do  it,  when  often  it  was 
quite  impossible  to  give  an  exact  answer  as  it  must 
depend  on  the  circumstances  arising,  which  could  not 
be  altogether  foretold/' 

I  think  Mr.  Vincent  had  a  sincere  liking  for  Sir 
William,  who  was  not  a  very  popular  person.  There 
is  a  story  about  him  and  eight  Cambridge  under- 
graduates who  gave  a  little  dinner  at  Greenwich,  each 
saying  they  would  ask  the  man  they  disliked  most  in 
the  world.  When  the  evening  arrived  only  one  guest 
put  in  an  appearance  ;  all  had  asked  the  same  man. 
Sir  William  Harcourt ! 

I  can  understand  Sir  William  not  being  popular, 
for  at  times  the  Harcourt  manner  was  unbearable, 
at  others  nothing  could  have  been  more  charming 
and  polished,  but  the  elder  brother  Edward  Harcourt 
was  the  pleasantest,  though  he  too  was  rather  lordly. 
Once  when  driving  me  from  the  Alexandra  Hotel  in 
Knightsbridge  in  a  landau  with  a  pair  of  his  horses, 
which  by  the  way  were  very  badly  coupled,  untidy 
and  slipshod  looking,  he  suddenly  said,  *'  I  believe  one 
of  the  horses  is  lame  ?    Do  you  notice  it  ?  " 

I  replied,  ''  It  certainly  is.''  To  this  he  remarked  in 
an  angry  voice,  '*  Then  I  shall  discharge  the  coach- 
man." I  laughed  and  asked  how  that  was  going 
to  help  matters.  Still  indignant  he  said,  ''  If  the 
horses  fall  down  or  go  lame  I  discharge  the  coachman, 
if  the  cows  give  no  milk  I  discharge  the  dairymaid," 
adding,  **  I  do  it  on  principle." 

I  then  asked  if  he  found  it  answered  and  he  replied, 
"  Admirably  !  " 

It  was  curious  that  the  two  brothers  Edward  and 
William    Harcourt    should    be    of    different    political 


VICTORIAN  WORTHIES  309 

opinions,  the  eldest  a  Conservative  and  the  younger  a 
Liberal-Radical.  At  one  time  I  thought  Sir  William 
really  was  above  party  politics,  and  once  made  this 
remark  to  Mr.  Joseph  Chamberlain ;  he  smiled  a  calf- 
like  smile  and  said  nothing.  A  little  later  I  changed 
my  views  when  I  saw  and  heard  how  bitterly  dis- 
appointed Sir  WilUam  was  at  not  being  made  Prime 
Minister  in  1894.  After  which  he  did  not  support 
Lord  Rosebery  as  might  have  been  expected,  for  which 
reason  it  is  stated  Lord  Rosebery  resigned. 

Mr.  Vincent  was  knighted  in  1896. 

There  are  many  reasons  why  we  should  all  remember 
Sir  Howard  Vincent  with  gratitude.  We  have  him  to 
thank  for  the  passing  of  the  bill  which  gave  powers  to 
the  Police  to  send  for  a  veterinary  surgeon  to  put  poor 
animals  out  of  their  pain  when  injured  in  the  streets  ; 
after  which  we  were  saved  the  horrors  of  seeing  poor 
horses  struggling  to  get  up  with  broken  legs  and  other 
injuries.  Both  Sir  Howard  and  Lady  Vincent  were  lovers 
of  animals,  as  most  gentle,  nice-natured  people  are. 

Another  good  work  we  have  to  thank  him  for,  was 
the  appointment  of  the  Public  Trustee. 

If  I  had  the  space  I  should  like  to  write  of  the  very 
many  kind  things  I  have  known  Sir  Howard  do,  his 
goodness  to  little  children,  to  the  sick  and  anybody 
in  trouble.    His  simple  faith  and  many  charities. 

He  never  lost  his  affection  for  soldiering,  he  loved 
the  uniform,  sword,  glitter,  band  and  emotions  they 
evoked  ;  he  acknowledged  this  himself,  often  laughing 
at  his  own  expense.  During  the  latter  part  of  his  life 
he  took  much  interest  in  the  Westminster  Volunteers, 
which  corps  he  commanded.  Although  doubtless  a 
very  gallant  soldier  he  was  never  able  to  recollect  the 
regulation  words  of  command ;  fortunately  he  and  his 
men  understood  and  liked  one  another,  or  there  might 
have  been  difficulties.  He  was  especially  proud  of  a 
new  word  of  command  he  coined  one  field  day  when 
he  had  received  orders  to  move  his  men  to  some  spot 
without  being  seen  by  the  enemy.  After  rapidly 
running  over  in  his  mind  all  the  words  of  command 


310      MEMORIES  DISCREET  AND  INDISCREET 

he  could  remember  and  finding  all  inappropriate  to 
this  emergency,  he  delivered  himself  thus  : 

"  Now,  you  fellows,  you  have  got  to  line  that  ridge 
over  there.  Creep,''  and  they  crept. 

Sir  Howard  died  at  the  age  of  fifty-nine.  I  think 
the  activity  of  his  brain  killed  him,  for  he  worked  so 
unceasingly  that  his  poor  body  could  not  keep  pace 
with  his  brain. 

I  never  met  a  sweeter-tempered  man  or  one  with  a 
kinder  heart. 

When  I  read  day  after  day  of  the  splendid  achieve- 
ments of  the  French  army  in  this  great  war  my  mind 
travels  back  to  the  days  when  I  saw  the  raw  conscripts 
being  trained  at  Villefranche  on  the  road  between 
Nice  and  Monte  Carlo.  The  parade  ground  lies  close 
to  the  road,  and  I  used  to  go  with  a  small  son  and  sit 
on  a  low  mud  wall  at  the  side  of  the  road  and  watch 
the  French  conscripts  being  drilled.  This  was  an 
unfailing  source  of  joy,  it  was  all  so  different  to  what 
I  had  been  accustomed  to  see  at  home. 

One  day  part  of  what  had  to  be  practised,  was  a 
certain  movement  of  arms,  then  a  run  of  about  thirty 
yards  and  jump  over  quite  a  low  mud  wall,  that  any 
of  them  could  easily  have  stepped  over  without  much 
exertion  but  which  presented  terrible  difficulties  to 
the  raw  conscripts  who  were  not  athletes.  They  were 
shown  how  it  was  to  be  done  by  their  instructors,  and 
it  looked  so  easy.  Then  the  men  were  set  at  it  again 
in  fours ;  anyone  accustomed  to  hunting  or  schooling 
horses  could  tell  in  a  moment  those  whose  hearts  were 
in  it,  and  whose  that  were  not.  Some  went  at  the 
jump  fiercely,  gave  a  mighty  jump  with  legs  well  apart 
and  arrived  sprawling,  but  proud  at  the  other  side. 
Others  would  start  well,  then  a  certain  doubt  and 
falter  made  itself  apparent  in  their  stride.  The 
sergeants,  or  whoever  their  instructors  were,  shouted 
words  of  encouragement  to  them ;  thus  braced  the  men 
meant  to  do  or  die  in  the  attempt,  but  at  the  last 
moment  tucked  their  toes  in  and  threw  their  hearts 
over,  their  bodies  remaining  this  side  of  the  jump. 


VICTORIAN  WORTHIES  311 

At  last  to  my  utter  astonishment  the  instructors 
in  exasperation  slapped  the  men's  faces  !  after  which 
they  were  so  inspired  they  all  got  over  this  thing  about 
the  size  of  a  footstool  and  looked  round  anxiously  to 
see  the  enormous  amount  of  ground  they  had  covered. 
Yet  now  probably  those  very  men  are  doing  wondrous 
brave  things  daily  and  have  forgotten  all  about  those 
first  days  of  soldiering. 

One  day  while  we  were  watching  the  drilling,  a 
carriage -load  of  tourists  drove  up  and  unblushingly 
began  to  photograph  the  soldiers,  but  a  gendarme  was 
on  the  spot  in  a  moment  and  told  them  it  could  not  be 
allowed,  was  defendu.  ...  I  do  not  think  either 
papa,  mama,  daughter,  or  maiden  aunt,  which  is  what 
they  looked  like,  understood  one  word  of  what  was  said 
to  them,  but  gathered  perhaps  they  had  better  move  on. 

I  often  bicycled  and  walked  along  that  road  to 
Nice.  There  was  a  most  picturesque  old  beggar  who 
was  daily  to  be  found  sitting  at  the  roadside,  where  he 
collected  alms  in  his  big  brigand-looking  felt  hat. 
The  man  was  French  and  had  snow-white  hair  and 
heavy  beard  ;  beside  him  was  his  little  carriage,  which 
consisted  of  part  of  a  packing-case  with  the  sides  cut 
away  and  mounted  on  old  perambulator  wheels. 
This  was  drawn  from  and  to  Nice  every  day  by  two 
handsome  well-cared-for  dogs,  who  slept  beside  their 
master  until  time  to  go  home.  Many  people  stopped 
to  give  the  crippled  old  man  and  his  dogs  money  and 
food,  for  which  they  received  much  thanks  in  well- 
chosen  words,  and  were  told  the  story  of  how  the 
great  English  Queen  (Victoria)  had  stopped  her 
carriage  as  she  drove  past  and  had  sent  him  some 
money  by  one  of  her  attendants  and  asked  for  a 
photograph  of  him,  which  had  been  taken  at  once, 
and  the  Queen  had  taken  the  picture  of  him  and  his 
dogs  sitting  on  the  roadside  away  to  England  with 
her.  Then  a  precious  much-folded  and  creased  news- 
paper was  produced  giving  an  account  of  the  meeting 
and  showing  the  Queen  in  her  carriage  near  the  old 
man. 


312     MEMORIES  DISCREET  AND  INDISCREET 

This  splendid  but  pathetic-looking  beggar  said  he 
could  only  crawl  about  to  harness  his  dogs  and  get 
into  his  quaint  carriage.  I  watched  him  do  this  one 
day  :  at  a  word  from  the  old  man  the  dogs  almost 
harnessed  themselves,  and  stood  in  their  places  while 
their  master  hitched  their  leather  traces  over  a  couple 
of  big  nails  and  climbed  into  his  seat,  where  he  sat 
cross-legged  as  he  did  on  the  road. 

I  was  rather  surprised  one  evening  when  I  was  in 
Nice  rather  late  with  my  French  maid,  who  was  leading 
me  down  some  back  streets  to  find  an  old  curio  shop 
she  knew  of,  to  see  my  friend  the  beggar  rattle  up  with 
his  dogs  and  chariot,  step  out  at  the  door  of  a  respect- 
able almost  bettermost  house  where  a  servant  was 
awaiting  him  and  led  away  the  dogs,  while  another 
attended  to  the  gentleman  who  had  been  a  cripple  all 
day. 

I  was  told  afterwards  that  the  man  was  well  off  and 
had  made  it  all  begging.  He  was  fond  of  his  dogs  and 
good  to  them.  The  Chaplain  had  made  enquiries 
about  the  case  and  found  out  all  about  him. 


CHAPTER  XXI 

LORD  ROBERTS 

Lord  Roberts  as  "  Wee  Bobs  " — In  the  Mutiny — His  Private  Secretary 
— Sleeps  in  a  Cape  Cart — Inspecting  Goth  Rifles — Breaks  Down — 
Helps  to  Save  a  Young  Officer — Dislike  of  Cats — His  Death — Sir 
Neville  Chamberlain — Wounded  at  Kandahar — Seven  Years  in 
Kashmer — Inspector-General  of  Irish  Police — Executor  to  Lord 
Roberts — A  supposed  Governorship — A  Dancing  Lesson — General 
Park — On  Wagon  Hill — Thanked  by  Sir  George  White  and  Sir 
Ian  Hamilton — Account  of  the  Battle — Congratulations — Prices 
in  Ladysmith  During  the  Siege — General  Park  Sees  a  Boer  General's 
Wife  Off  by  Train— The  Way  She  Says  Good-bye— His  Death- 
Funeral  at  Exeter. 

LITTLE  BOBS"  was  the  title  of  affection 
that  descended  upon  Lord  Roberts  very 
^  early  in  life.  The  first  time  I  heard  it  in 
connection  with  him  was  from  Sir  John  Ewart,  he 
told  me  that  during  the  storming  of  the  Dilkusha  Park 
at  Lucknow  during  the  Mutiny,  when  the  93rd  were 
endeavouring  to  get  inside  the  walls,  ''  Little  Bobs  " 
galloped  up  in  advance  and  nearly  lost  his  life,  as  a 
shot  from  one  of  the  enemies'  guns  either  in  the  palace 
or  behind  it,  I  forget  which,  struck  the  horse  he  was 
riding,  cutting  the  horse  in  two  just  behind  the  saddle. 
All  fell  in  a  confused  and  ghastly  heap.  The  men  of 
the  93rd  said,  ''  Plucky  wee  Bobs  is  done  for,"  but 
'*  Wee  Bobs  "  was  by  no  means  done  for,  and  as  he 
was  seen  to  issue  from  the  carnage,  on  his  feet  again, 
the  Highlanders  gave  him  a  cheer.  I  have  been 
told  by  some  people  that  it  was  not  the  horse  Mr. 
Roberts  was  riding  that  was  shot,  but  that  of  an 
Artilleryman  near,  whom  he  went  to  assist.  I  adhere 
to  Sir  John  Ewart 's  story,  I  would  always  take  the 
word  of  a  Scotsman  against  the  rest  of  the  world,  they 
may  be  prosaic,  but  are  nearly  always  exact. 

313 


314     MEMORIES  DISCREET  AND  INDISCREET 

I  first  met  "  Wee  Bobs  ''  in  London  when  he  was 
General  Sir  Frederick  Roberts.  I  have  already  men- 
tioned his  kindness  in  telegraphing  and  writing,  when 
my  husband  was  wounded;  on  many  other  occasions 
he  has  gone  out  of  his  way  to  help  me,  always  showing 
that  consideration  for  others  which  endeared  him  to 
the  hearts  of  the  British  public. 

Lord  Roberts  attributed  his  success  as  a  soldier,  to 
a  great  extent,  to  the  kindness  of  the  late  General  Sir 
Donald  Stewart,  who  gave  him  the  chance  of  his  life 
in  the  command  of  the  Army  which  marched  from 
Kabul  to  Kandahar  ;  and  he  endeavoured  to  show 
his  gratitude  by  chivalrous  attention  to  dear  old  Lady 
Stewart  in  her  declining  years. 

That  Lord  Roberts  had  favourites,  no  one  can  deny, 
but  most  Generals  have,  only  they  don't  admit  it. 
He  had  a  very  kindly  feeling  and  admiration  for  the 
Highlanders,  and  said  he  was  proud  to  have  one  on 
his  coat  of  arms  as  standard  bearer. 

The  two  names  amongst  my  own  friends  that  I 
associate  most  closely  with  the  old  Chief  are  the 
present  Sir  Ian  Hamilton,  always  a  great  favourite, 
and  Sir  Neville  Chamberlain,  who  was  a  second  son 
to  the  old  man.  Both  these  men  have  particularly 
charming  manners  and  are  dear  old  friends  of  mine. 

When  the  second  Afghan  War  broke  out  in  1878 
General  Roberts  was  appointed  to  command  the 
column  which  was  to  advance  via  the  Kurram  Valley, 
and  he  appointed  Mr.  Chamberlain  to  his  personal 
staff ;  he  always  speaks  with  the  warmest  affection  of 
Lord  Roberts,  in  one  letter  I  have  from  him  after  the 
General's  death  he  says  :  ''I  owe  any  success  I  may 
have  achieved  in  life  to  him,  and  to  his  personal 
example  all  the  many  years  it  was  my  privilege  to  be 
closely  associated  with  him,  and  that  was  from  the 
time  I  joined  him  in  1878  to  the  day  of  his  death  in 
November,  1914/' 

For  true  kindness  of  heart,  it  would  be  hard  to  find 
the  equal  of  Lord  Roberts,  it  was  apparent  in  his  every 
action,  and  he  shared  with  our  late  King  Edward  VII 


SIR    NKVILI.i:  CHAMBERLAIN 


LORD  ROBERTS  315 

that  happy  genius  of  remembering  faces  and  names, 
even  remembering  their  relationships.  It  was  natural 
to  him  to  wish  to  give  pleasure,  and  in  Afghanistan 
when  he  went  round  outposts,  he  would  stop  and 
speak  to  a  native  officer  in  command  of  some  picquet 
and  after  a  brief  conversation  would  say,  ''  I  know 

your   brother — Subidar   X of  the   Punjab 

Infantry,  and  your  father  served  with  me  at  Delhi." 
Small  wonder  the  men  loved  him. 

The  Mr.  Chamberlain  I  have  already  mentioned, 
now  Sir  Neville  Chamberlain,  acted  as  Private 
Secretary  to  Lord  Roberts  in  South  Africa.  When 
they  reached  Kroonstadt  in  their  advance  to  Pretoria, 
one  of  the  Staff  had  been  sent  on  ahead  to  secure  a 
house  for  the  Commander-in-Chief ;  there  were 
many  vacant,  but  a  large  one  in  the  centre  of 
the  town  which  seemed  suitable  was  occupied  by  the 
family  of  a  Dutch  clergyman.  They  were  asked  to 
move  into  one  of  the  smaller  empty  houses  near  which 
would  have  accommodated  them,  so  as  to  leave  the 
larger  one  for  General  Roberts  and  his  Staff.  It  was 
late  in  the  evening  when  Lord  Roberts  arrived  and 
found  the  good  people  preparing  to  evacuate  their 
premises.  He  was  much  upset  and  would  not  hear  of 
the  household  being  inconvenienced  on  his  account. 
It  was  then  too  late  to  make  other  arrangements,  so  he 
bivouacked  for  the  night  in  his  small  Cape  cart  by 
the  side  of  the  road,  along  which  clouds  of  dust  were 
blowing  as  mounted  and  other  troops  were  passing 
through  most  of  the  night. 

Sir  Neville  says  he  can  answer  for  the  dust,  as  he 
slept  in  inches  of  it  on  the  ground  at  the  foot  of  the 
cart — and  he  added,  "  I  believe  he  (Lord  Roberts)  was 
probably  the  only  officer  on  the  various  staffs  of  any 
rank  who  was  not  comfortably  housed  that  night.'' 

Next  day  a  suitable  dwelling-place  was  found. 

One  of  the  charms  of  Lord  Roberts  was  he  was 
courteous  and  polite  to  all,  it  was  not  possible  to 
detect  the  slightest  difference  in  his  mode  of  address 
when    speaking    to    the   last   joined   subaltern,   non- 


3i6     MEMORIES  DISCREET  AND  INDISCREET 

commissioned  officer  or  soldier,  or  officer  of  the 
highest  rank. 

We  can  all  remember  when  the  sad  news  came 
telling  Lord  Roberts  his  only  son  in  the  6oth  Rifles, 
a  smart,  good-looking,  promising  young  soldier,  had 
been  killed,  the  bravery  of  the  old  man  with  his 
broken  heart  sailing  for  South  Africa  in  response  to 
his  country's  demands  to  take  supreme  command. 
When  he  reached  Pretoria  he  inspected  the  6oth  Rifles, 
and  tried  to  address  them,  but  completely  broke  down, 
his  voice  failed  him,  all  he  could  whisper  was 
*'  My  poor  son  .  .  .  my  poor  son.  .  .  .''  Sir  William 
Pit  cairn  Campbell  linked  his  arm  into  the  old  warrior's 
and  led  him  off  the  parade. 

We  can  also  well  remember  how  often  Lord  Roberts 
tried  to  save  England  from  ''  The  Surprise  "  of  1914, 
how  persistently  he  tried  to  awaken  those  who  did  not 
wish  to  be  awakened.  When  the  crash  came,  he  must 
have  longed  to  say,  ''  I  told  you  so,''  but  was  too 
generous. 

The  pubUc  life  of  Lord  Roberts  is  too  well  known 
to  bear  repeating,  but  hundreds  of  his  private  kind- 
nesses remain  unwritten. 

Here  is  one  instance  known  only  to  myself  and  the 
few  concerned. 

A  well-known  Yorkshire  family  living  not  far  from 
our  home  in  the  North,  had  a  favourite  son  in  whom 
all  the  hopes  of  the  family  were  centred  ;  he  was  in 
one  of  the  crack  regiments  that  served  several  times 
with  distinction  under  Lord  Roberts.  As  it  was  a 
question  of  his  having  to  leave  the  Service  in  disgrace, 
the  lad's  people  felt  it  acutely,  and  asked  me  as  I  knew 
Lord  Roberts  if  I  would  speak  to  him  about  it  and 
ask  his  advice.  I  wrote  to  the  General,  who  happened 
to  be  in  England  at  the  time,  and  he  replied  at  once 
saying  he  would  like  to  talk  to  me  about  it,  and  would 
come  and  see  me  if  I  would  suggest  a  convenient  time 
on  one  of  two  days  he  mentioned.  Not  only  did  he 
give  me  advice  that  would  be  comforting  to  the  lad's 
people,  but  promised  to  see  what  could  be  done.    The 


LORD  ROBERTS  317 

young  officer's  mother  came  up  to  town  to  be  near  if 
wanted,  and  became  very  ill  from  shock  at  an  hotel ; 
when  Lord  Roberts  heard  this  he  offered  to  go  and 
see  her  to  try  and  relieve  her  mind  ;  she  joyfully 
accepted  his  kind  offer. 

In  the  end  there  was  no  flagrant  scandal,  the  boy 
left  his  regiment  by  sending  in  his  papers  and  went 
abroad  where  a  billet  was  found  for  him,  but  where 
I  hear  he  is  not  doing  very  well.  His  mother  is  dead 
now.  This  is  only  one  instance  where  Lord  Roberts 
has  tried  to  give  a  lad  a  second  chance,  and  had 
soothed  unhappy  parents. 

During  the  whole  of  Lord  Roberts'  life  he  had  a 
great  dislike  to  cats,  something  more  than  a  dislike, 
for  he  instinctively  felt  when  one  was  near  him,  even 
though  he  could  not  see  it,  not  only  did  it  make  him 
feel  uncomfortable  but  at  times  quite  ill.  Once  at 
a  dinner-party  when  a  cat  rushed  into  the  room  and 
rubbed  itself  against  his  legs,  he  nearly  fainted. 

With  some  people  this  might  have  been  considered 
affectation  and  absurd  ;  but  no  one  could  suggest 
anything  of  the  kind  in  connection  with  the  brave, 
plucky  old  warrior,  he  would  have  been  the  last 
person  in  the  world  willingly  to  make  himself  con- 
spicuous in  such  a  way.  Again  while  on  board  ship  he 
was  walking  up  and  down  talking  to  a  friend,  and 
suddenly  became  uneasy,  looking  about  him  right  and 
left,  quite  unable  to  attend  to  his  friend's  conversation, 
at  last  he  could  stand  it  no  longer  and  left  the  deck. 

It  was  found  the  ship's  cat  had  taken  the  oppor- 
tunity to  go  for  a  stroll  on  top  of  the  awning  over  the 
quarter-deck.  Lord  Roberts  had  not  seen  her,  but 
felt  she  was  near. 

I  have  noticed  that  Generals  often  seem  to  have 
an  excellent  idea  of  how  to  be  comfortable.  Lord 
Roberts  was  no  exception  to  this  rule.  For  instance, 
he  was  never  without  his  pint  of  champagne  for 
dinner,  even  in  the  most  far-reaching  and  protracted 
campaigns. 

I  expect  he  regarded  it  as  a  duty  to  take  care  of 


3i8     MEMORIES  DISCREET  AND  INDISCREET 

himself  as,  of  course,  his  health  was  of  great  import- 
ance. 

It  was  a  splendid  death  for  this  fine  old  warrior,  to 
die  among  the  soldiers  with  whom  his  whole  life  had 
been  associated,  and  who  had  always  responded  so 
nobly  whenever  he  had  special  work  for  them  to  do. 
His  body  was  brought  back  to  the  old  country,  the 
**  England  that  to  me  has  been  so  much  ;  England 
that  to  me  has  done  so  much."  His  spirit  must  surely 
be  still  in  Flanders  with  the  troops. 

Sir  Neville  Chamberlain  missed  his  old  friend  sorely. 
Sir  Neville  is  another  of  the  lucky  ones,  well  favoured 
by  Dame  Nature  in  looks  and  disposition.  He  has 
always  been  popular  with  men  and  women  and  has 
never  become  the  least  spoilt.  Always  the  same  '*  so 
glad  to  see  you  "  manner.  His  career  is  remarkable 
for  a  man  so  young  as  he  was  when  he  began  to  hold 
posts  of  trust  and  political  bearing.  In  1873  he  joined 
the  Devonshire  Regiment  in  India,  three  years  later 
the  Central  India  Horse,  a  crack  Bengal  cavalry 
regiment.  When  in  the  happy  intervals,  which  in  those 
days  existed  between  drills  and  routine  work,  the 
officers  of  the  regiment  used  to  have  their  tiger- 
shooting  parties,  excellent  training  for  active  service 
for  both  officers  and  men  of  the  regiment,  a  number 
of  the  latter  being  skilful  shikaris.  Many  other 
well-known  men  have  served  in  the  Central  India 
Horse  since,  Lieutenant-General  Sir  Montagu  Gerard, 
a  keen  soldier  and  a  great  tiger  slayer,  who  died  while 
serving  as  one  of  the  British  representatives  with  the 
Russian  Army,  in  the  Russo-Japanese  War ;  Colonel 
Algy  Durand,  who  was  British  Agent  at  Gilgit  during 
the  Hunza-Nagar  campaign ;  General  Townshend,  the 
gallant  defender  of  Kut ;  Sir  Edward  Bradford,  of  whom 
I  have  written,  and  others,  the  regiment  has  either 
attracted  good  men  or  made  good  men. 

Sir  Neville  counts  it  good  fortune  to  have  been 
present  at  all  the  engagements  fought  by  the  troops 
under  Lord  Roberts'  command  in  Afghanistan  ;  and 
was  one  of  the  wounded  at  the  Battle  of  Kandg-U^-r. 


LORD  ROBERTS  319 

In  1889  Lord  Lansdowne,  then  Viceroy  in  India, 
appointed  him,  at  the  request  of  the  Kashmer  State 
to  put  their  Army  on  a  sound  financial  and  administra- 
tive footing  ;  for  seven  years  he  carried  out  this  work, 
and  these  British  trained  "  Imperial  Service  Troops  " 
of  the  State  served  with  distinction  in  Chitral  and 
quite  lately  one  of  His  Highness'  regiments  has  gained 
a  high  reputation  for  bravery  and  efficiency  in  the 
fighting  during  this  Armageddon. 

Then  followed  various  other  appointments  in  India. 
General  Sir  William  Lockhart,  who  had  succeeded  Sir 
George  White  as  Commander-in-Chief,  now  selected 
Sir  Neville  to  command  the  Force  in  the  Khyber  Pass 
with  political  charge  of  the  Tribesmen  there.  All  that 
summer  of  1899,  block-houses  were  being  built  along 
the  Khyber  Pass. 

After  this  he  was  in  South  Africa  as  Private  Secretary 
to  Lord  Roberts,  and  then  the  important  post  of 
Inspector-General  of  the  Royal  Irish  Constabulary, 
which  he  held  for  sixteen  years.  During  his  tenure  of 
office,  there  were  many  interesting  episodes.  The 
missing  Crown  Jewels,  the  Wyndham  Act  in  1903 
which  facilitated  the  requisition  of  land  by  the  tenant 
farmers,  the  big  Agrarian  Campaign,  characterised  by 
cattle  driving  in  1907-8,  various  riots  in  Belfast,  and, 
last  of  all,  the  outbreak  of  the  Sinn  Feiners  in  Dublin 
on  Easter  Monday,  1916.  This  latter  threw  a  severe 
strain  on  the  RJ.C.  as  a  whole,  being  under  strength 
at  the  time,  owing  to  a  number  of  men  having  joined 
the  Army  for  the  War.  It  speaks  well  for  Sir  Neville 
Chamberlain  that  the  Police  came  out  of  the  nasty 
business  as  well  as  they  did,  had  there  been  any  flaw 
in  the  machinery  it  would  now  assuredly  have  come 
to  light. 

I  made  many  anxious  enquiries  at  this  time  amongst 
people  in  the  know,  as  to  how  things  were  going  with 
the  Police.  I  so  feared  Sir  Neville  might  be  made  to 
bear  blame  that  belonged  to  other  shoulders ;  and 
was  thankful  when  the  Force  emerged  from  the  ordeal 
with  even  a  higher  reputation  for  discipline,  courage 


320     MEMORIES  DISCREET  AND  INDISCREET 

and  loyalty  than  it  had  deservedly  enjoyed  previously. 
This  was  proved  in  the  report  of  Lord  Har dingers 
Commission  which  investigated  the  causes  which  led 
to  the  rebellion,  and  the  action  which  was  taken  by 
those  responsible  in  Ireland  to  deal  with  it. 

A  few  months  later  Sir  Neville  retired  from  his 
onerous  task,  having  served  the  State  for  forty-three 
years,  and  yet  he  does  not  look  that  age.  Someone 
said  the  other  day  he  looks  ''  disgracefully  young," 
which  is  very  wonderful  after  having  held  the  very 
slippery  seat  of  an  Irish  official  with  all  its  work  and 
anxieties  for  so  many  years.  I  am  thankful  he  escaped 
without  being  pulled  limb  from  limb.  Amongst  his 
many  honours  he  possesses  the  coveted  by  all  policemen 
"  The  King's  Police  Medal." 

Not  long  ago  when  talking  over  old  days  and  com- 
paring notes,  Sir  Neville  said,  ''  Apart  from  all  pro- 
fessional honours,  what  I  have  valued  most  has  been 
the  confidence  and  close  personal  friendship  which 
Lord  Roberts  honoured  me  with,  and  I  feel,  very 
deeply,  the  fact  that  he  selected  me  as  one  of  his 
executors." 

Sir  Neville  is  now  manager,  director  or  some  such 
thing  in  a  big  munition  factory,  I  did  not  like  to  ask 
him  any  questions  about  it  as  in  these  days  there  are 
so  many  secrets  people  must  not  divulge. 

There  are  still  a  number  of  people  I  should  like  to 
write  about,  but  my  publisher  will  be  growing  restive 
and  I  must  restrain  my  inclinations,  and  be  very  brief 
about  the  few  I  cannot  pass  over.  Amongst  them 
General  Cecil  Park,  the  hero  of  Wagon  Hill,  where  he 
commanded  the  Devons  and  did  such  splendid  work, 
receiving  the  thanks  of  Sir  George  White  and  Sir  Ian 
Hamilton. 

It  may  be  remembered  the  orders  received  by 
General  Park  were  that  the  hill  had  to  be  cleared  at 
all  costs  as  from  it  the  Boers  were  a  perpetual  menace  to 
the  Camp  at  Ladysmith.  I  think  Colonel  Park's  own 
account  of  that  day  in  a  letter  to  his  wife,  which  she 
has  kindly  lent  to  me,  will  explain  the  situation.  From 


GKNERAI.   C  KCn.    PARK 


LORD  ROBERTS  321 

his  childhood  I  knew  Colonel  Park  and  he  had  always 
been  of  a  most  retiring  disposition  and  one  of  the  most 
unboastful  of  men,  but  one  can  I  think  read  between 
the  lines  of  what  he  experienced  at  that  time. 
The  letter  to  his  wife  runs  : 

''  January  8,  1900. 

**  I  have  been  through  the  most  terrible  ex- 
perience of  my  life  since  I  wrote  last.  Thank 
God  for  His  great  mercy  that  He  has  brought  me 
through  it.  On  Saturday,  6th,  the  Boers  made  a 
most  determined  attack  on  Caesar's  Camp  and 
Wagon  Hill,  which  is  long  and  flat -topped,  running 
East  and  West  on  the  far  side  of  the  town  [Lady- 
smith].  It  is  all  one  ridge,  the  East  being  called 
Caesar's  Camp  and  the  other  Wagon  Hill.  The 
Boers  crept  up  at  both  ends  before  dawn  ;  arrived 
at  the  edge  of  the  crest  and  held  on  all  day,  some- 
times gaining  and  sometimes  being  pushed  back, 
both  sides  firing  heavily  and  with  great  loss. 

'*  We  had  five  companies  out  occupying  various 
positions  elsewhere,  and  I  was  left  with  three 
companions  in  Camp,  the  officers  being  Lafone, 
Field,  Masterman  and  Walker  (Somersets  attached). 
At  4  p.m.  I  got  orders  to  start  for  Wagon  Hill 
at  once  with  every  available  man  to  help  Sir  Ian 
Hamilton  who  was  hard  pressed.  I  had  the  men 
under  arms,  and  we  started  within  ten  minutes  ; 
and  got  there  in  about  five,  just  as  a  most  terrible 
thunder  and  hail  storm  burst  over  us,  drenching 
us  to  the  skin.  I  reported  myself  to  Hamilton 
and  asked  what  he  wanted  me  to  do,  and  he  said, 
'  Well,  Park,  there  are  about  fifty  Boers  holding  a 
small  ridge  of  rocks  right  in  front  of  the  line  we  are 
holding  here,  and  only  one  hundred  yards  off,  they 
have  been  there  all  day,  are  picked  shots,  and  we 
cannot  get  them  out.  We  have  men  almost  on  three 
sides  of  them  but  they  are  all  under  the  cover  of  the 
rocks,  and  pick  off  our  men  if  they  even  show  their 
heads.     They  must   be   turned  out,  the  only  way 


322     MEMORIES  DISCREET  AND  INDISCREET 

is  to  rush  them  with  the  bayonet,  can  you  do  it  ? ' 
Of  course  I  could  only  answer,  *  We  will  try/  We 
settled  details,  and  then  I  formed  up  the  Companies 
in  Column,  close  behind  one  another,  as  there  was 
not  room  to  form  lines  in  the  little  hollow  in  which 
we  were.  We  fixed  bayonets  and  charged  magazines. 
I  explained  to  each  Company  exactly  what  we  had 
to  do,  and  when  all  was  ready  Colonel  Hamilton 
said,  '  Go  on,  and  God  bless  you.'  Away  we  went, 
the  men  cheering  and  shouting,  the  first  few  yards 
we  were  under  cover,  but  when  we  reached  the  top 
of  the  crest  line,  we  were  met  by  the  most  awful 
storm  of  bullets.  I  never  heard  such  a  hot  fire,  and 
can  only  compare  it  to  the  crackling  of  a  dry  gorse 
branch  when  thrown  into  a  fire.  We  saw  then  for 
the  first  time  what  we  had  to  do.  The  little  ridge 
of  rocks  held  by  the  Boers  was  right  up  in  front  of 
us,  between  it  and  us  130  yards  of  open  flat  grass 
without  shelter  or  cover  of  any  kind. 

''  The  men  behaved  most  splendidly  ;  every  man 
went  straight  and  hard  as  he  could  for  the  enemy's 
ridge  ;  though,  as  I  ran,  I  could  see  they  were 
falling  like  ninepins  on  both  sides  of  me  :  then  at 
last  to  my  intense  relief,  when  we  were  in  about 
fifteen  yards  of  them,  I  saw  the  Boers  suddenly 
jump  up,  turn  tail  and  fly  down  the  hill  for  their 
lives  and  the  position  was  ours. 

"  After  a  minute  or  two,  when  we  had  settled 
down  in  the  position  and  I  had  time  to  look  round, 
I  realised  that  not  only  had  we  lost  heavily  in 
the  charge,  but  we  were  still  exposed  to  a  heavy 
cross  fire  from  both  flanks,  from  which  we  suffered 
severely.  Just  then  Lafone  remarked  that  he 
wished  someone  would  tell  the  Imperial  Light 
Horse  fellows,  who  were  holding  a  little  ridge  behind 
us,  to  fire  at  the  Boers  on  our  left  front,  without 
a  word  Masterman  jumped  up  and  ran  back  across 
the  open  through  the  hail  of  bullets  to  give  the 
Imperial  Light  Horse  the  message,  and  though  he 
was  badly  hit  by  at  least  three  bullets  in  both 


LORD  ROBERTS  323 

thighs,  he  managed  to  reach  them  and  give  the 
message  before  he  collapsed.  .  .  .  Very  soon  after 
that  I  was  watching  Lafone,  who  had  got  a  rifle 
and  was  sniping  at  the  Boers,  when  I  suddenly  saw 
a  hole  come  in  his  head  just  above  his  right  ear  and 
he  just  sank  down  as  he  sat.  I  crawled  over  and 
found  him  quite  dead,  poor  old  fellow.  A  little 
further  on  I  found  poor  Field,  also  lying  dead. 
Walker  of  the  Somersets  had  been  shot  dead  during 
the  charge,  and  I  was  the  only  officer  left.  It  was 
then  about  five  forty-five  and  there  was  nothing 
for  it  but  to  hang  on  where  we  were  until  dark.  The 
rain  and  hail  continued  to  pour  down  the  whole 
time  and  I  had  no  coat  of  any  sort,  I  lay  behind 
a  rock  blue  with  cold  and  my  teeth  chattering  so 
that  I  could  hardly  speak.  It  wasn't  funk,  though 
I  own  I  was  in  a  horrid  funk  just  before  we  started 
out,  but  that  all  went  directly  we  were  off  and 
never  came  back  again.  I  felt  as  cool  and  steady 
as  possible,  it  was  sheer  miserable  cold.  The  men 
had  their  thick  khaki  serge  greatcoats,  so  were 
better  off.  After  a  bit  I  spied  a  blanket  lying  rolled 
up  a  little  way  off,  so  crawled  after  it,  and  to  my  joy 
found  there  were  two  and  a  waterproof  sheet.  .  .  . 
**  Never  was  darkness  more  longed  for,  and  when 
at  last  it  came,  the  Boers  gave  us  a  final  burst  of 
firing  for  about  a  minute  which  did  no  harm  and 
then  bolted  down  the  hill  finally  beaten.  You  will 
I  expect  have  seen  all  about  it  in  the  papers.  .  .  . 
I  was  thankful  when  dawn  came  and  we  could  get 
our  dead  carried  down/' 

Colonel  Park  then  appears  to  have  collected  his 
companions  and  returned  to  Camp  ;  where  he  says  : 

'*  Sir  George  [White]  came  round  and  called  me 
up  shaking  hands  with  me,  saying,  *  I  congratulate 
and  thank  you  for  the  splendid  work  you  and  your 
men  did  yesterday.  It  was  magnificently  done. 
I   am  afraid  you  suffered  very  heavily,  but   you 


324     MEMORIES  DISCREET  AND  INDISCREET 

must  remember  that  such  work  as  that  cannot  be 
done  for  the  Empire  without  loss.'  Those  are  as 
nearly  as  I  can  remember  his  exact  words.  I 
thanked  him,  and  a  lot  of  the  Staff  came  round 
and  said  how  splendid  it  was  and  how  the  honour 
of  the  day  was  ours  and  so  on  until  I  began  to  feel 
uncomfortable  and  escaped." 

In  another  letter  dated  January  loth  he  says  : 

*'  This  morning  came  a  lovely  message  direct 
from  the  Queen  to  Sir  George  White  sending  con- 
gratulations and  saying,  '  Greatly  admire  conduct 
of  Devonshire  Regiment.'  I  feel  so  pleased  and 
proud  that  she  should  single  out  the  regiment  by 
name." 

Many  letters  followed,  in  all  of  them  accounts  of  the 
eager  watching  from  day  to  day  for  relief  of  Lady- 
smith  and  the  daily  disappointment.  At  last  a  letter 
dated  February  28th.  ''  Night. — ^We  are  relieved, 
thank  God,  I  can't  realise  it  in  the  least  yet  hut  it  is 
true." 

In  one  letter  I  notice  he  says :  '*  G.  W.  Steevens  of 
The  Daily  Mail  is  dying,  he  has  had  typhoid,  but  was 
almost  convalescent  when  two  days  ago  he  had  a  bad 
relapse  and  cannot  now  live  forty-eight  hours.  He 
will  be  a  terrible  loss  to  The  Daily  Mail  and  the 
public." 

The  prices  paid  during  the  siege  were  fairly  pro- 
hibitive :  **  I  lb.  common  tobacco  £5  los.,  12  eggs 
;fi  IIS.  6d.  I  bought  a  pot  of  peach  jam  yesterday 
for  7s." 

At  Elandslaagte,  Bill  Park,  for  that  is  what  we  all 
called  him,  did  well  when  commanding  the  ist  Devons 
with  whom  he  had  grown  up.  They  marched  across 
an  absolutely  open  plain  commanded  by  the  enemies' 
position.  His  coolness  was  much  commented  on, 
while  his  battalion  were  subjected  to  a  most  severe 
rifle  fire.  Also  at  Lydenburg,  where  he  captured  a 
fort  and  took  prisoners. 


LORD  ROBERTS  325 

Rather  an  amusing  thing  happened  when  Colonel 
Park  was  seeing  off  some  of  the  wives  of  those  taken 
prisoners.  Being  at  all  times  polite  and  chivalrous 
to  ladies,  he  felt  concerned  for  the  comfort  of  the  Boer 
GeneraFs  wife,  who  was  being  sent  by  train  *'  else- 
where " — a  concentration  camp  really.  He  was  civil 
enough  to  go  and  see  her  off  by  train  and  explained  to 
her  how  sorry  he  was  that  being  so  short  of  rations  he 
was  unable  to  provide  her  with  much  food  or  comfort 
on  her  journey  ;  she  shut  the  window  of  the  railway 
carriage  up  in  his  face,  nothing  daunted  and  still  full 
of  good  purpose,  he  stood  by  the  carriage  door  to 
salute  her  as  she  moved  off.  At  the  last  moment  as 
the  train  began  to  move,  the  window  was  lowered  and 
the  cork  out  of  a  champagne  bottle  let  off  with  a  pop 
in  his  face,  while  she  shouted  at  him  a  word  of  affection 
amongst  sailors,  according  to  Dr.  Johnson,  but  not 
usually  heard  in  polite  society.  Colonel  Park  was 
immensely  tickled  and  laughed  whenever  he  pictured 
the  scene  over  again  to  himself. 

Many  people  have  told  me  how  brilliantly  he 
handled  his  men  during  that  sixteen-hour  fight  on 
Wagon  Hill,  Lord  Kitchener,  Sir  Ian  Hamilton,  Sir 
George  White  spoke  highly  of  him. 

His  active  service  was  one  of  which  any  soldier 
might  be  proud.  He  served  in  the  Afghan  War  1879-80. 
D.A.A.G.  and  Stalf  Officer  to  General  Sir  R.  Stewart 
in  Burma.  At  the  end  of  his  service  in  South  Africa 
obtained  the  Queen's  medal  with  clasp.  King's  medal 
with  two  clasps.  Besides  all  the  other  appointments  he 
held  at  different  times  he  was  from  1900  to  1913  A.D.C. 
to  His  Majesty  the  King. 

He  was  very  musical  and  when  a  small  boy  played 
the  organ  in  church,  when  his  feet  would  not  reach 
the  pedals  without  balancing  himself  first  on  one 
side  and  then  on  the  other.  Music  was  born  in  him, 
he  had  no  lessons  and  played  without  notes,  some  of 
his  improvised  harmonies  were  charming. 

He  started  life  well  armed,  for  he  was  very  religious, 
with  an  unswerving  faith — a  great  sense  of  humour 


326     MEMORIES  DISCREET  AND  INDISCREET 

and  a  self-contained  happiness — able  to  be  happy 
without  depending  on  other  people — and  had  no 
expensive  tastes. 

In  1884  Colonel  Park  married  the  daughter  of 
Admiral  Robert  Coote.  A  son  worthy  of  so  gallant 
a  father  carries  on  the  name,  he  also  is  in  the  Devons, 
and  was  badly  wounded  at  Neuve  Chapelle,  December, 
1914,  and  had  to  have  his  hand  amputated. 

General  Park  died  in  1913  and  is  buried  at  Exeter, 
the  family  thinking  that  as  he  had  passed  all  his  life 
in  the  Devonshire  Regiment,  it  was  fitting  he  should 
rest  near  the  headquarters  of  the  regiment,  where  his 
name  will  go  down  to  history  with  its  records.  He 
died  from  the  privations  he  endured  in  South  Africa, 
not  being  at  any  time  very  strong  and  he  never 
entirely  recovered  from  the  enteric  which  invalided 
him  home.  His  funeral  was  an  impressive  sight.  The 
whole  town  of  Exeter  in  mourning,  shops  shut,  flags 
half-masted.  The  service  in  the  Cathedral,  the 
thousands  of  people  that  lined  the  roads,  those  who 
had  known  and  loved  him,  others  who  had  only  known 
him  from  his  work.  At  the  time  of  the  funeral  a 
battalion  of  the  Devons  were  in  Jersey,  they  sent  men 
to  attend  his  funeral  and  the  coffin  was  carried  by  the 
sergeants  who  had  served  under  him ;  the  last  post  being 
sounded  by  a  bugler  who  was  with  him  on  Wagon  Hill 
that  memorable  January  6th,  1900. 


CHAPTER  XXII 

A  MIXED  BAG 

The  German  Crown  Prince  in  India — A  German  Duchess — At  Ascot — 
Her  Bonnet — General  Bewicke-Copley  Arrested  as  a  Spy — Wears 
Lord  Fitzwilham's  Clothes — At  Oxford  with  Cecil  Rhodes — Rhodes' 
Banking  Account — Invites  Author  to  Groote  Schuur — His  Gardens 
in  Africa — Present  to  Parnell — Pursued  by  Russian  Intrigueante 
— His  Dress  and  Manners — Colonel  Edward  King-Harman — His 
Mad  Spirits — Puts  Peas  in  the  Organ — Captures  "  the  Tail  of  the 
Prophet's  Shirt  "  in  Mutiny — Puts  Policeman  in  the  Pond — Wrecks 
the  Place — Puts  a  Waiter  in  the  Big  Drum — Goes  to  Prison — Lord 
Cardigan's  Sympathy  with  a  Subaltern — Sends  His  Seconds  to  the 
Governor  of  Malta — A  Musical  Evening  with  Lord  Kinnoull  and 
Lord  Queensberry — A  Pigeon  Shoot  at  Sir  Claude  de  Crespigny's — 
Sir  Charles  Dilke  and  the  Trainer — The  Prince  of  Wales  Learns  to 
Swim — Sir  Charles  Dilke  on  and  in  the  River — Sir  Spencer 
Ponsonby-Fane — Queen  Victoria's  Walking-stick. 

MANY  stories  have  been  told  of  the  rather 
remarkable  escapades  of  the  German  Crown 
Prince  during  his  memorable  Indian  tour, 
which  came  to  such  an  abrupt  conclusion.  I  do  not 
think,  however,  that  the  following  has  been  told  before, 
and  it  is  worth  telling  as  it  was  the  cause  of  his  sudden 
departure  from  India  on  a  liner  instead  of  a  cruiser  as 
had  originally  been  arranged. 

At  a  ball  given  in  a  certain  Indian  city,  the  Crown 
Prince's  roving  eye  aUghted  on  a  very  beautiful  lady 
of  high  degree,  who  had  been  allowed  to  view  the 
proceedings  from  a  discreet  vantage-point  above  the 
floor.  The  Crown  Prince  expressed  an  ardent  desire 
to  make  this  lady's  acquaintance ;  this  was  managed 
and  during  the  rest  of  the  time  he  was  in  that  par- 
ticular city,  he  was  her  constant  and  devoted  slave. 

However  the  programme  of  a  Crown  Prince's  pro- 
gress is  an  inexorable  thing,  and  at  last  with  many 
regrets  he  and  his  suite  had  to  leave  and  become  the 

327 


328     MEMORIES  DISCREET  AND  INDISCREET 

guests  of  a  very  high  Enghsh  Official  at  a  considerable 
distance  from  the  home  of  his  delight. 

A  reception  of  the  most  stately  description  had  been 
arranged  at  which  many  people  were  to  be  presented 
to  the  Crown  Prince.  When  it  was  time  for  him  to 
appear  at  the  reception  a  message  was  sent  to  his 
apartment  to  acquaint  him  of  the  fact. 

The  messenger  was  informed  by  members  of  the 
Crown  Prince's  suite  that  his  Royal  Highness  was  in- 
disposed and  not  able  to  appear.  The  truth  was  he 
had  hied  him  off  back  to  the  lady  in  the  city  he  had 
just  left,  having  hired  a  motor  to  take  him  there  and 
bring  him  back  in  due  course. 

Horrified  at  the  news  of  the  Crown  Prince's  illness, 
the  High  Official  sent  his  own  physician  to  see  the 
sufferer.  Of  course  he  was  told  the  Crown  Prince 
could  not  be  seen.  The  High  Official  being  a  shrewd 
man  began  to  make  enquiries,  and  the  police  were 
sent  to  make  investigations  amongst  motor-car  pro- 
prietors in  the  neighbourhood  and  also  in  the  city 
where  dwelt  the  Crown  Prince's  delight.  The  driver 
of  the  car,  hearing  of  the  hue  and  cry,  became  seriously 
alarmed  fearing  he  would  get  into  trouble-  over  the 
affair  and  did  what  was  perhaps  wisest  under  the 
circumstances — disappeared  into  the  blue  horizon  with 
his  car,  leaving  the  Crown  Prince  high  and  dry  in  a 
city  he  was  not  supposed  to  be  even  near  ! 

The  night  felt  chilly  and  a  rather  disconsolate  young 
man  with  a  long  nose  and  in  civilian's  clothes  made 
a  modest  appearance  at  the  railway  station  and  entered 
a  sleeping-compartment.  In  it  a  couple  of  snoring 
subalterns  on  leave  lay  rolled  up  in  rugs  in  the  only 
two  comfortable  berths. 

The  young  man  with  the  long  nose  sat  discon- 
solately upright  and  shivering  until  he  could  bear  it 
no  longer.  He  then  began  to  pull  the  rug  from  off 
one  of  the  sleepers,  who  promptly  awoke  and  for  a 
moment  stared  in  speechless  astonishment  at  the 
individual  who  had  dared  to  try  and  rob  him  of  his 
wraps.     The  silence,  however,  was  only  momentary, 


A  MIXED  BAG  329 

then  followed  language  that  had  never  been  addressed 
to  him  before  in  all  his  life  unless  it  was  by  his  father. 

''  Do  you  know  who  I  am  ?  ''  demanded  the  young 
man  haughtily,  as  soon  as  he  could  make  himself 
heard. 

The  infuriated  subaltern  described  very  lucidly  how 
little  he  cared  who  or  what  the  intruder  was.  This 
was  too  much  to  be  tolerated,  so  drawing  himself  up 
to  his  full  height  the  shivering  young  man  replied  : 

'*  Well,  I  am "  and  then  remembered  the  last 

thing  he  must  do  was  to  disclose  his  identity  as  he  was 
not  supposed  to  be  there  at  all.  So  he  returned  to  his 
cold  and  lonely  perch,  followed  by  parting  insults 
from  the  subaltern,  who  then  curled  up  again  and  went 
to  sleep  for  the  rest  of  the  night. 

In  due  course  the  chastened  youth  returned  to  the 
official  residence  where  he  was  a  guest  and  went  to 
bed,  becoming  the  Crown  Prince  again  during  the 
process.  Later  in  the  morning  came  a  message  from 
his  host  to  say  that  a  train  was  being  prepared  to  convey 
His  Royal  Highness  to  Calcutta. 

'*  Calcutta,''  quoth  the  Crown  Prince  amazed,  ''  I 
am  not  due  there  for  a  long  time  yet.  What  are  you 
talking  about  ?  '* 

What  passed  between  host  and  guest  is  best  known 
to  themselves,  but  rumour  stated  that  it  was  pointed 
out  to  the  Crown  Prince  that  when  a  guest  behaved  in 
such  a  manner  in  a  house  of  the  entertainer,  the 
responsibility  became  more  than  he  cared  to  under- 
take and  that  the  train  was  now  quite  ready  to  start. 

A  cable  had  been  sent  to  Berlin  indicating  that  the 
Prince's  ways  were  oppressive,  and  Papa  had  at  once 
replied,  ''  Send  him  home  at  once."  So  that  is  why 
he  hastened  away  in  a  lowly  liner  instead  of  a  cruiser. 

The  mental  perspective  of  the  German  people  seems 
to  be  entirely  different  from  our  own. 

When  a  certain  German  was  over  iiere  in  1885,  or 
thereabouts,  she  went  to  someone  I  know  who  had 
been  bitten  with  the  then  fashion  for  going  into 
business.     The  lady  in  question  kept  a  very  smart 


330     MEMORIES  DISCREET  AND  INDISCREET 

bonnet  shop,  and  a  letter  was  received  saying  the 
Duchess  would  call  on  a  certain  date  to  choose  some 
things  for  Ascot. 

She  duly  arrived  and  was  very  charming,  ordered  a 
few  things,  parasols,  bonnets,  etc.     All  were  sent  to 

the  Duchess  at House.    The  lady  who  kept  the 

bonnet  shop  heard  how  well  the  bonnet  and  other 
things  suited  the  Duchess  when  she  appeared  in  them 
in  the  Royal  Enclosure  at  Ascot,  therefore  was  rather 
surprised  a  few  days  later  to  receive  back  the  bonnet 
and  parasol  that  had  been  worn  on  Cup  day,  with  a 
message  that  they  were  not  approved  of  and  could 
not  be  worn. 

My  friend  was  very  firm  and  said  foreign  royalties 
or  no,  she  was  not  going  to  take  back  things  when 
they  had  been  worn,  and  sent  off  one  of  her  porters 
with  the  things  again.  In  a  day  or  two  they  were  once 
more  left  at  the  bonnet  shop  and  were  again  returned 
to  the  Duchess.  That  was  the  last  seen  of  them. 
I  remember  the  Duchess  well,  she  was  very  fair  and 
bonny,  with  the  tiniest  waist  I  ever  saw ;  I  wondered 
how  she  lived  and  breathed,  it  was  almost  painful  to 
see. 

My  bonnet-shop  friend  told  me  of  several  amusing 
things  that  happened  while  she  elected  to  remain  in 
business.  One  lady-in-waiting  with  a  large  family  of 
daughters  and  a  not  long  purse  ordered  all  sorts  of 
things;  the  bill  ran  on  and  nothing  was  paid.  My 
friend  did  not  like  to  press  for  it  as  she  feared  perhaps 
Royalty,  who  had  been  very  kind  to  her  and  ordered 
lots  of  things,  might  possibly  be  put  off  by  the  lady- 
in-waiting  if  she  was  annoyed.  At  last  a  diplomatic 
letter  was  sent  and  the  reply  came  in  person  next  day 
as  the  lady-in-waiting  walked  in  and  asked  what  was 
meant,  as  she  considered  it  a  favour  to  wear  the  things, 
being  such  a  o^ood  advertisement  for  the  shop  !  Again 
my  friend  had  to  be  firm. 

On  another  occasion  an  English  girl  who  had  married 
a  German  Prince  ordered  some  things  and  paid  for 
them  with  a  cheque  of  her  husband's  that  was  returned 


A  MIXED   BAG  331 

from  the  bank  with  *'  refer  to  drawer  "  written  across 
it.  This  was  done  and  the  Princess  was  most  apologetic 
and  appeared  so  upset  that  my  friend  felt  sorry  for 
her.  It  was  explained  that  certain  money  expected 
from  Germany  had  not  arrived  but  would  very  shortly, 
would  madam  keep  the  cheque  and  present  it  again  a 
little  later  ?  This  was  done  and  the  money  received, 
also  a  polite  note  from  the  Princess,  so  all  was  well. 

General  Bewicke-Copley,  who  served  for  many  years 
in  the  60th  Rifles,  has  seen  a  good  deal  of  service ;  like 
all  good  soldiers  he  considers  his  regiment  the  finest 
in  the  service.  The  60th  have  an  intense  love  for  their 
regiment,  which  has  been  and  is  a  gallant  corps. 
Originally  they  were  red-coated,  long  before  the  Rifle 
Brigade  were  thought  of  :  not  until  after  Waterloo 
did  they  become  Riflemen.  I  believe  they  still  march 
to  the  time  of 

"  I'm  ninety-five,  I'm  ninety-five, 
And  to  keep  single  I'll  contrive  ! " 

There  has  been  some  falling  off  amongst  them  from 

this  boastful  theory. 

In  1887  the  General  was  arrested  at  Brienne-le- 
Chateau  as  a  Russian  spy  and  put  into  prison.  It 
was  really  very  trying,  for  he  was  in  France  for  the 
perfecting  of  his  French,  and  in  the  afternoons  went 
various  walks  and  fishing  expeditions  in  the  vicinity. 
One  day  when  peacefully  fishing,  some  gendarmes 
marched  up  and  arrested  him,  handing  him  over  to 
the  mayor,  who,  by  way  of  showing  his  thorough 
knowledge  of  the  English  language,  agreed  that  it 
was  **  incontestish "  that  he  was  an  Englishman, 
nevertheless  he  must  go  to  prison  ;  so  to  prison  he 
went  and  spent  the  night  there. 

The  following  morning  he  was  released,  receiving  an 
apology  through  the  mayor  on  behalf  of  the  French 
Republic,  expressing  himself  as  desole  that  such  a 
mistake  should  have  been  made.  The  part  that  struck 
me  as  tragic  was  that  in  spite  of  the  General's  beautiful 
French  accent,  on  which  he  rather  prided  himself,  he 
was  mistaken  for  a  Russian. 


332     MEMORIES  DISCREET  AND  INDISCREET 

He  had  aroused  suspicion  by  having  taken  the 
opportunity  to  study  the  battlefields  of  the  1814 
Campaign,  and  his  prowlings  were  not  looked  upon 
with  favour  ;  especially  as  at  the  time  of  his  arrest  he 
was  fishing  in  a  stream  where  it  was  crossed  by  one 
of  the  new  strategic  railway  lines.  It  was  declared 
that  his  fishing-rod  was  really  meant  for  measuring 
purposes. 

Another  experience  the  reverse  of  pleasant  befell 
General  Bewicke-Copley  when  one  of  a  large  party 
staying  with  the  Bowers  at  Welham  near  Malton. 
They  had  been  to  a  ball  at  Lord  Middleton's  and  on 
their  return  thought  they  saw  a  stack  on  fire.  Nearing 
their  destination  it  proved  to  be  their  host's  house. 
They  all  set  to  work  on  the  pumps  and  stood  in  water 
up  to  their  knees  in  their  best  Sunday-go-to-meeting 
evening  clothes  ;  but  all  their  possessions  were  burnt, 
nothing  of  my  brother's  was  left  but  the  exceedingly 
wet  garments  he  stood  in.  The  guests  and  indeed 
the  household  had  to  find  quarters  elsewhere.  The 
General  went  to  Lord  Fitzwilliam — grandfather  of 
the  present  Earl,  and  masqueraded  in  his  clothes  until 
some  arrived  from  home. 

I  saw  the  General  do  a  plucky  thing  once  when  a 
boy,  home  from  Rugby.  A  pair  of  spirited  black 
Irish  horses  belonging  to  a  relation  ran  away  while 
the  coachman  was  off  the  box  doing  something  to  the 
harness.  Seeing  the  run-away  horses  coming  towards 
him  the  General  made  a  dash  at  their  heads  and, 
though  swept  off  his  feet  and  swished  past  shrubs  and 
trees  that  slapped  his  face,  succeeded  in  stopping 
them. 

At  Oxford  while  he  was  at  Merton  College,  Mr. 
Cecil  Rhodes  was  at  Oriel;  the  latter  had  been  up 
earher  and  was  ordered  to  South  Africa  for  his  health, 
but  had  come  up  a  second  time.  The  General  tells  me, 
'*  Mr.  Rhodes  was  always  regarded  with  a  certain 
amount  of  curiosity  at  Oxford,  in  the  days  when  we 
used  to  spend  our  shillings  freely,  as  a  man  who  had 
'  made   some   money.'     He  was  a   nice  quiet  fellow. 


A  MIXED  BAG  333 

who  used  to  wear  very  comfortable  clothes — and  even 
then  used  to  wag  his  forefinger  at  me  and  say,  *  I  give 
you  a  thought.' " 

In  Cape  Town  just  before  the  South  African  War 
Mr.  Rhodes  was  using  his  private  walk  across  the  range 
where  a  company  of  60th  Rifles  were  at  musketry ;  he 
was  somewhat  disconcerted  by  hearing  the  swish  of 
bullets  close  to  him,  without  having  seen  the  danger 
flag  hoisted.  He  walked  up  to  the  officer  in  charge  of 
the  shooting  party,  who  was  a  master  of  six  oriental 
languages,  and  gave  him  a  taste  of  his  own,  showing 
a  complete  mastery  of  it,  and  taking  the  shine  com- 
pletely out  of  the  vocabulary  of  the  oriental  language 
man. 

Hard  things  have  been  said  of  Mr.  Rhodes  at  one 
time  and  another,  many  quite  undeserved,  some 
people  even  having  the  impertinence  to  discuss  and 
criticise  the  way  he  spent  his  money,  saying  it  was 
made  in  Africa  and  spent  elsewhere.  As  a  matter  of 
fact  he  spent  a  great  deal  of  it  in  Africa,  spending 
large  sums  on  thoroughbred  horses  and  starting  a 
stud  farm  at  Kimberley  for  the  benefit  of  the  country. 
He  bought  all  the  latest  improvements  in  machinery 
for  the  benefit  of  the  country,  taught  the  farmers 
fruit  growing,  and  packing ;  and  to-day  South  Africa 
largely  supplies  the  English  market.  He  even  went  to 
the  expense  of  bringing  men  from  California  to  teach 
the  art.  I  do  not  think  it  is  generally  known  that 
notwithstanding  the  large  fortune  he  made  in  the 
South  African  Mines,  his  banking  account  was  fre- 
quently overdrawn  owing  to  all  he  did  for  the  benefit 
of  the  country  combined  with  his  many  charities  and 
philanthropic  undertakings. 

He  loved  flowers — big  blazes  of  one  colour.  I  have 
always  wished  I  had  been  able  to  accept  Mr.  Rhodes' 
kind  invitation  to  go  and  stay  at  Groote  Schuur  when 
Lady  Sarah  Wilson  was  out  there.  He  gave  such 
glowing  accounts  of  his  large  garden  of  Blue  Hy- 
drangeas, about  half  an  acre  of  them.  It  must  have 
been  glorious,  and  growing  at  Christmas  !     He  was 


334     MEMORIES  DISCREET  AND  INDISCREET 

very  kind  to  the  poor  people,  allowing  them  to  walk 
about  amongst  his  flowers  and  gather  what  they  liked. 
As  usual  on  such  occasions  people  abused  his  kindness, 
spoiling  plants,  leaving  picnic  papers  about  and 
making  general  nuisances  of  themselves,  but  he  would 
not  have  them  stopped,  saying  why  should  the  many 
suffer  for  the  wrong-doing  of  the  few. 

It  was  characteristic  of  Mr.  Rhodes  that  after 
building  Groote  Schuur  and  making  it  beautiful,  he 
filled  it  with  guests  and  slept  in  an  old  outhouse 
himself. 

Not  long  before  his  death  he  rented  Rannock  Lodge 
and  some  of  the  shooting  from  Lady  Menzies  of  Castle 
Menzies  for  a  couple  of  months,  paying  £2000  for  that 
period. 

These  Scotch  Moor  shoots  are  usually  calculated  at 
£t  per  bird,  and  £30  per  deer,  whether  killed  or  wounded. 
I  am  sorry  to  say  he  did  not  enjoy  this  shoot  as  he 
hoped  to  do,  as  he  was  suffering  a  good  deal  from  his 
heart,  and  had  to  be  very  careful  not  to  overexert 
himself.  He  therefore  rode  on  a  shooting  cob  instead 
of  walking,  which  fretted  him  a  good  deal. 

It  may  be  remembered  that  he  sent  ;f  10,000  to  Mr. 
Parnell  towards  the  Irish  Home  Rule  movement. 

One  thing  that  struck  me  particularly  about  Mr. 
Rhodes  was  the  way  he  felt  what  has  come  home 
to  many  of  us  at  times  ;  that  it  is  not  a  question 
of  only  doing  what  we  individually  think  right, 
but  must  consider  the  effect  on  other  people  of 
what  we  may  do  ;  how  it  may  influence  them  for 
good  or  ill. 

As  a  conversationalist  Mr.  Rhodes  was  charming, 
in  his  dress  untidy,  and  very  simple,  wearing  no 
jewellery  as  a  rule,  not  even  a  tie-pin. 

He  suffered  greatly  from  his  heart  for  several  years 
before  he  died  in  March,  1902,  leaving  a  remarkable 
will — amongst  other  things  clear  instructions  as  to 
his  own  interment,  expressing  the  wish  to  be  buried 
**  on  the  hill  which  I  used  to  visit  and  which  I  called 
*  the  view  of  the  world,'  in  a  square  to  be  cut  in  the 


A  MIXED    BAG  335 

rock  on  the  top  of  the  hill,  covered  with  a  plain  brass 
plate,  with  these  words  thereon  : 

*'  Here  lie  the  remains  of  Cecil  John  Rhodes. 
So  much  to  do,  so  little  done." 

Preaching  at  his  funeral  service  the  Bishop  of  Cape- 
town gave  his  text,  '*  Know  ye  not  that  there  is  a 
prince  and  a  great  man  fallen  this  day  in  Israel  ?  " 

My  book  would  not  be  complete  without  a  reference 
to  my  old  friend  Colonel  Edward  King-Harman  of 
Rockingham  ;  but  impossible  to  give  a  proper  idea  of 
the  man  in  so  small  a  space,  I  could  write  a  whole 
fat  book  about  him.  A  man  of  unflinching  courage, 
great  ability,  consumed  with  animal  spirits,  generous 
and  emotional.  Known  amongst  his  friends,  who 
were  many,  as  '*The  King.''  He  simply  loved  a  fight 
or  row  of  any  kind,  and,  being  a  very  big  powerful 
man,  whichever  side  he  joined  felt  the  benefit  of  his 
weight. 

At  one  time  he  was  Under-Secretary  to  the  Chief 
Secretary  for  Ireland  (Mr.  Balfour),  a  post  of  which 
he  was  the  only  occupant,  as  it  was  created  for  him 
and  died  with  him.  When  at  Eton  it  took  him  seven 
days'  travelling  to  get  from  the  West  of  Ireland  to 
Windsor.  He  was  as  full  of  mad  pranks  as  his  old 
friend  Lord  William  Beresford. 

At  Eton  he  began  some  of  the  astonishing  enter- 
prises for  which  he  was  noted  all  his  life.  Having 
a  large  quantity  of  peas  and  no  pea-shooter,  he 
conceived  the  idea  of  putting  them  down  the  pipes 
of  the  chapel  organ,  thinking  that  when  it  was  re- 
quested to  discourse  sweet  music  it  would  act  as  a 
grouped  pea-shooter,  peppering  everybody  in  chapel. 
He  was  disappointed,  for  nothing  more  happened  than 
the  organ  being  put  out  of  action  after  a  few  throttled 
notes  and  querks. 

After  Eton  he  joined  the  60th  Rifles  and  went  to 
India  in  time  to  be  present  in  the  siege  of  Delhi,  where 
he  was  one  of  the  first  through  the  breach.  A  portion 
of  the  loot  he  secured  was  the  Sacred  Relic  of  the 


336     MEMORIES  DISCREET  AND  INDISCREET 

Shirt  of  the  Prophet,  what  he  called  '*  the  tail  of  the 
Prophet's  Shirt/'  and  this  he  proceeded  subsequently 
to  carry  with  him  in  his  bag  as  he  marched  back 
through  India  with  his  regiment.  At  various  places 
as  he  went  down  country  he  was  met  by  deputations 
of  pious  natives  who  begged  to  be  allowed  to  worship 
the  Prophet's  shirt.  Eventually  he  was  persuaded  to 
give  up  the  relic,  which  for  his  own  sake  was  just  as 
well,  for  I  am  certain  he  would  never  have  been  allowed 
to  leave  India  alive  as  long  as  he  possessed  it. 

On  his  return  to  England  he  became  adjutant  of 
the  Artists'  Corps  and,  as  he  had  very  highly  developed 
artistic  tastes  and  a  facile  pen,  he  lived  a  Bohemian 
life  for  some  years,  painting  and  writing  a  little  whilst 
living  amongst  artists.  At  this  time  of  his  life  he  was 
a  magnificent  specimen  of  a  man,  six  feet  four  inches  in 
his  socks,  beautifully  proportioned,  with  golden  hair 
and  beard,  and  a  grand  head  set  upon  broad  shoulders, 
an  ideal  artists'  model.  Sir  John  Millais,  who  was  a 
great  friend  of  his,  wished  to  paint  his  portrait,  but 
could  never  persuade  him  to  sit  still  long  enough, 
therefore  the  beautiful  picture  of  him  painted  by 
Millais  was  done  after  his  death  from  photographs 
and  from  recollections. 

He  married  early  in  life  a  daughter  of  Sir  William 
Worsley  of  Hovingham,  a  relation  of  the  Sir  William 
Worsley  who  drove  with  us  through  the  floods  to 
Gilling. 

He  joined  Isaac  Butt's  party  in  Ireland  as  a  Home 
Ruler  and  stood  for  the  County  of  Longford,  but  after 
a  hotly  contested  election  in  which  he  thoroughly 
enjoyed  himself,  as  there  was  quite  as  much  fighting 
as  speech-making,  he  was  defeated.  A  huge  black- 
thorn stick  with  which  it  is  said  he  literally  fought  the 
Longford  election  is  still  at  Rockingham;  with  this 
stick  and  twenty  trusty  followers  the  great  fair-haired 
giant  succeeded  in  holding  a  bridge  across  which  about 
two  hundred  voters  had  to  come  if  they  were  to  register 
their  votes  for  his  opponent.  Many  sore  heads  were 
registered  but  no  votes. 


A  MIXED  BAG  337 

The  complete  change  in  the  policy  of  the  Irish 
Home  Rule  party  from  the  ideal  of  Isaac  Butt  and  his 
earlier  followers,  made  it  impossible  for  Colonel  King- 
Harman  any  longer  to  act  with  the  out-and-out  section 
of  the  party,  which  became  the  dominant  factor  and 
drove  men  like  King-Harman  and  subsequently  Butt 
himself  out  of  the  party.  He  now  severed  his  connec- 
tion with  the  Home  Rulers  and  became  Conservative 
member  in  the  late  seventies  for  Dublin  County. 

One  of  the  incidents  in  Colonel  King-Harman's 
earlier  days  in  London  was  frequently  brought  up 
against  him  by  his  political  opponents.  The  Cremorne 
affair,  when  he  and  a  number  of  his  chosen  friends, 
having  dined  well,  set  forth  to  wreck  the  Gardens, 
carrying  out  their  intentions  fairly  thoroughly,  finish- 
ing up  by  throwing  the  police  into  the  pond,  making 
hay  generally  and  returning  to  his  club  triumphant. 

The  proprietor  of  the  place,  named  E.  T.  Smith, 
overlooked  the  first  row,  but  determined  if  there  was 
any  fresh  disturbance  to  make  an  example  of  the  mis- 
demeanants. On  Derby  night  someone  dared  Colonel 
King-Harman  to  repeat  the  experiment  at  Cremorne. 
This  time  only  one  or  two  friends  accompanied  him. 
First  he  turned  all  the  Hghts  out,  followed  of  course 
by  pandemonium;  at  the  end  of  the  row  one  waiter 
was  missing  and  was  found  later  shoved  into  the  big 
drum  belonging  to  the  band. 

The  police  being  in  force  this  time  and  on  the 
look-out  for  eventualities,  now,  pour  encourager  les 
autres,  took  Colonel  King-Harman  prisoner  after  a 
fierce  battle,  the  Colonel  defending  himself  with  tables 
and  chairs.  Then  followed  one  month's  imprisonment ! 
There  were  a  good  many  well-known  people,  young 
bloods  and  Queen's  Equerries,  who  had  a  hand  in  the 
fray,  but  all  escaped  except  King-Harman. 

Later  he  settled  down  into   a   more   serious  life, 
becoming  a  keen  politician  and  representative  Irish 
landlord  with  a  huge  estate;  a  rent  roll  of  £40,000  a 
year  and  a  house  or  two  as  large  as  Windsor  Palace 
He  was  fighting  the  representative  of  Irish  landlordism 


338     MEMORIES  DISCREET  AND  INDISCREET 

in  the  stirring  days  of  the  land  war  in  the  early  eighties, 
often  carrying  his  life  in  his  hands  and  he  knew  it .  Many 
conspiracies  were  made  to  shoot  him,  but  no  actual 
attempt  that  I  ever  heard  of  was  made  on  his  life  other 
than  in  many  fights. 

He  was  full  of  sympathy  and  love  for  Ireland,  it 
was  his  misfortune  to  Uve  in  troublous  times  and  to 
be  branded  as  an  enemy  of  his  country. 

Mr.  Parnell  hated  him  for  renouncing  the  party 
when  it  became  identified  with  rapine  and  outrage, 
and  the  Home  Rule  party  vowed  revenge. 

Colonel  King-Harman  died  in  1888  at  the  early  age 
of  fifty,  and  during  most  of  those  years  thoroughly 
enjoyed  his  Hfe  ;  the  last  sixteen  he  devoted  to  fighting 
in  the  lost  cause  of  Irish  landlordism  and  the  defence 
of  the  Union.  He  had  been  in  bad  health  for  some 
time,  perhaps  the  frivolities  of  his  early  youth  had 
told  upon  him  ;  when  during  the  Season  in  town  he 
said  there  was  no  occasion  to  take  any  garments 
except  dress  clothes,  as  he  went  to  bed  about  8  a.m. 
and  dressed  again  in  time  for  dinner  in  the  evening — 
after  which  he  usually  proceeded  on  the  war-path. 

Also  there  is  no  doubt  the  loss  of  his  son,  Lawrence, 
who  died  of  enteric  fever  at  Hythe  in  1886  at  the  age 
of  twenty-three,  was  a  great  grief,  from  which  he 
never  seemed  able  to  rally.  He  died  from  heart  failure 
while  sitting  up  in  bed  talking  to  his  family  at  Rock- 
ingham. 

Colonel  King-Harman  was  devoted  to  his  children ; 
many  times  I  have  seen  him  dance  sword  dances  with 
his  daughter  Fay  (afterwards  Lady  Stafford)  when  we 
went  to  children's  parties.  She  was  very  pretty  with 
masses  of  beautiful  fair  hair,  while  she  danced  daintily 
with  the  swords  crossed  in  front  of  her.  He  danced 
opposite  to  her ;  it  was  wonderful  the  way  that  huge 
man  tipped  the  ground  with  his  toes,  looking  as  if  he 
hardly  touched  it,  he  then  advanced  towards  his 
daughter,  she  advanced  towards  him,  and  he  whirled  her 
round  the  room,  her  long  hair  streaming  out  behind  her. 

At  the  time  of  Colonel  King-Harman's  death  he  was 


A  MIXED  BAG  339 

Member  for  Thanet.  Not  an  eloquent  speaker  in  the 
usual  acceptance  of  the  term,  but  with  a  surprising  list 
of  fierce  epithets  not  half  of  which  he  really  meant. 

Lord  Cardigan  of  Balaclava  fame  was  one  of  the 
friends  of  Colonel  King-Harman's  early  years  ;  both 
were  headstrong  impetuous  men,  but  the  latter  did 
not  have  the  fierce  quarrels  with  people  that  his  lord- 
ship did.  Once  when  Lord  Cardigan  was  staying  at 
Badminton  a  fellow-guest  touted  for  an  order  for 
wine.  The  fiery  old  Earl  turned  on  him  like  a  tiger  : 
*'  Certainly  not,  sir,  Fve  too  much  of  your  filthy  stuff 
in  my  cellars  at  Deane.''  On  some  occasions  he  was 
more  sympathetic.  A  subaltern  once  asked  him  for 
three  days'  leave,  adding  it  was  fhost  particular — to 
which  Lord  Cardigan  as  Colonel  said,  '*  But,  my  boy, 
your  troop's  for  musketry.''  On  being  pressed  as  to 
what  was  most  particular  he  at  first  demurred  to  reply. 
Lord  Cardigan  to  encourage  him  said,  **  Now  between 
man  and  man  tell  me  why  do  you  want  three  days' 
leave  ?  "  **  Oh  !  well,  sir,  if  you  put  it  like  that,  I 
want  to  bolt  with  another  man's  wife."  **  Most 
Hussar  like,"   answered  Lord   Cardigan,    *'  of  course 

you  can  have  the  leave,  why  the didn't  you  say 

so  before  !  " 

The  friend  who  told  me  this  story  added,  **  I  think 
he  thought  it  was  part  of  the  duty  of  his  subalterns  to 
make  civiUans  jealous." 

When  he  himself  bolted  with  another  man's  wife, 
he  notified  the  husband  his  willingness  to  give  him 
satisfaction  and  received  the  following  answer  : 

"  Satisfaction,  my  dear  sir,  I  look  on  you  as  my 
greatest  friend,  you  have  already  given  me  the  greatest 
possible  satisfaction  by  taking  off  that  blankety  blank 
wife  of  mine.  .  .  ." 

When  at  Malta  Lord  Cardigan  sent  his  seconds  to 
call  out  the  Governor  for  not  returning  Lady  Cardigan's 
call,  so  His  Excellency  put  the  police  on  to  him,  and 
the  gallant  Cherubim  (nth  Hussars)  had  to  get  up 
full  speed  and  clear  out  without  delay. 

People  did  not  care  to  argue  with  Lord  Cardigan, 


340     MEMORIES  DISCREET  AND  INDISCREET 

he  was  so  peppery,  and  being  such  an  autocrat  would 
naturally  resent  one  of  his  retainers  replying  after  an 
order  was  given. 

At  a  shooting  luncheon  he  pointed  to  a  covert  on  a 
neighbouring  hill,  saying  to  his  head  keeper,  ''  We  will 
shoot  that  after  lunch." 

The  result  being  disappointing  he  wheeled  the  keeper 
into  line  and  read  the  Riot  Act,  demanding  to  know 

why  the there  was  so  little  game.     *'  Well, 

my  lord,  in  the  first  place  the  covert  is  not  yours, 

and  Squire only  shot  it  the  day  before  yesterday. 

I  did  not  think  you  would  find  much.'' 

This  story  has  been  attributed  to  one  or  two  others, 
but  it  is  so  characteristic  of  the  Leicestershire  Earl, 
that  I  think  it  has  found  its  right  home. 

I  have  known  a  good  many  men  who  have  climbed 
high  in  the  professions  who  have  had  peppery  tempers 
equal  almost  to  Lord  Cardigan's,  and  some  who  were 
very  touchy,  and  easily  offended. 

That  gallant  soldier  Sir  H.  Smith-Dorrien,  whom  I 
met  as  a  young  man  in  India,  was  inclined  to  take 
offence  rather  easily.  I  have  heard  him  called  strait- 
laced  by  the  gayer  spirits  of  those  days,  and  I  fancy 
some  of  the  revue  critics  to-day  will  agree  ;  judging  by 
what  has  appeared  in  the  press  lately. 

Another  man  who  had  lately  married  a  lady  with 
rather  fluffy  hair  found  out  one  day  that  some  of  the 
disrespectful  A.D.C.'s  called  him  ''  Huffy  "  and  his 
wife  ''  Fluffy  " ;  he  was  much  upset  and  told  the  young 
men,  ''  I  have  no  objection  to  your  calling  me  '  Huffy  ' 
if  it  pleases  you,  but  I  strongly  object  to  your  calling 
my  wife  'Fluffy'!" 

Admiral  Lord  Fisher,  to  whom  I  am  distantly  con- 
nected by  marriage,  is  one  of  the  peppery  order,  a  close 
relative  of  his  tells  me  they  all  fly  when  they  see  clouds 
on  the  horizon. 

Not  to  know  '*  Beautiful  Bwab  "  is  to  write  oneself 
unknown.  I  believe  the  family  name  was  Higgins 
originally,  now  the  family  is  represented  by  Bwab, 
so  called,  I  think,  from  his  inability  to  pronounce  his 


A  MIXED  BAG  341 

own  name.  R's  do  not  come  easily  to  him  either  by 
nature  or  habit.  He  originally  served  in  the  i6th 
Lancers.  After  that  the  Grenadier  Guards.  Much 
has  been  forgiven  to  Colonel  Brabazon  that  would 
have  excommunicated  most  people.  When  I  knew  him 
first  he  was  very  handsome  and  very  spoilt,  but  amusing 
and  pleasant.  I  never  quite  understood  why  so  much 
side  was  tolerated  by  his  brother  officers  or  the  com- 
munity at  large,  probably  because  they  knew  it  was 
all  froth  and  a  kind  heart  was  to  be  found  underneath 
it.  I  think  Vanity  Fair's  description  of  him  would  be 
hard  to  beat.  So  '*Bwab,''  bearded  and  faultlessly 
dressed,  after  a  brief  campaign  in  Canada,  took  his 
natural  place  as  the  leader  of  London  Society  ;  and 
when  the  paternal  acres  refused  to  keep  him  any  longer 
on  the  surface,  he — with  the  calmness  he  would  have 
evinced  in  leading  a  forlorn  hope  or  snubbing  an  im- 
pertinent Duchess — retired  to  a  regiment  of  which  he 
could  never  remember  the  number,  and  concerning 
which  he  knew  only  that  ''  they  wore  yellow  facings 
and  got  'em  from  Waterloo.*'  However,  it  is  recorded 
that  *'  the  fellows  "  of  the  vaguely  designated  regi- 
ment did  not  like  '*  Bwab  "  and  he,  remarking  to  the 
Colonel  that  he  did  not  Hke  ''  the  fellows,"  left  the 
Army  and  went  off  to  do  a  little  fighting  on  his  own 
account  as  a  volunteer  in  Ashantee.  Here,  he  alone, 
in  white  kid  gloves,  took  a  village  and  was  rewarded 
with  a  commission  in  the  loth  Hussars. 

I  never  thought  the  style  of  dress  affected  by  Colonel 
Brabazon  was  either  smart  or  telling,  his  trousers 
wide  and  flapping  over  his  boots,  his  silly-looking 
collars  and  curious  ties  were  all  patterns  of  his  own, 
but  I  did  not  think  they  added  to  the  attractiveness  of 
his  appearance. 

I  cannot  picture  him  campaigning,  without  scent 
for  his  handkerchiefs,  pomatum  for  his  hair  and  other 
toilet  requisites.  But  he  is  a  brave  soldier  and  a  great 
man  amongst  the  ladies.  His  usual  mode  of  address 
to  menkind  is  **  My  dear  Fellar." 

My  husband  told  me  that  once  in  South   Africa, 


342      MEMORIES  DISCREET  AND  INDISCREET 

when  the  general  commanding  his  division  was  speak- 
ing to  him  about  something  that  had  not  gone  off  quite 
all  right,  he  began  from  force  of  habit  '*  My  dear 
Fellar  .  .  ," 

History  relates  nothing  further. 

Another  man  who  affected  a  dress  peculiar  to  him- 
self was  the  late  Lord  Kinnoull,  an  old  and  valued 
friend  of  mine,  nobody's  enemy  but  his  own,  with 
almost  as  much  assurance  as  Colonel  Brabazon. 

Once  at  a  new  club  ball  when  I  was  talking  to 

Colonel and  he  moved  away  for  a  moment  to  bring 

a  man  who  wished  to  be  introduced.  Lord  Kinnoull 
came  up  in  his  absence  and  said,  *'  Can  you  tell  me 
what  relation  I  am  to  that  man  ?  I  ran  away  with 
his  wife/'  At  the  time  this  happened  his  Colonel 
seeing  how  conspicuous  *'  young  Hay  *'  (as  he  was 
then)  was  making  himself  advised  him  to  go  away  for  a 
while  on  leave  and  break  it  off.  Mr.  Hay  said  he  would 
go  away  if  the  Colonel  would  lend  him  J^200,  as  he  was 
very  hard  up.  This  was  forthcoming  and  Mr.  Hay 
went  on  leave  and  so  did  Mrs. . 

Poor  Fitzroy  !  one  of  the  kindest  and  cheeriest  of 
hearts,  but  unfortunate  in  his  love  affairs  ;  never 
really  happy  until  he  married  in  1903  Miss  Darell, 
who  was  as  musical  as  himself.  She  played  the  violin 
beautifully.  Lord  Kinnoull  the  organ,  piano,  har- 
monium ;  in  common  with  the  rest  of  his  family  he  was 
full  of  music. 

A  musical  evening  with  Lord  Queensberry  and  Lord 
Kinnoull  taking  turns  at  the  piano,  apparently  under 
Queensberry  Rules,  was  not  easily  forgotten. 

At  Dupplin  the  volume  of  sound  Fitzie  (as  his  in- 
timates called  him)  got  out  of  the  organ  in  the  hall, 
originally  fitted  up  as  a  chapel,  was  surprising. 

He  composed  the  music  of  the  hymn  for  his  second 
wedding  with  Miss  Darell  and  the  parson  wrote  the 
verses. 

One  curious  thing  about  Lord  Kinnoull,  he  said  he 
had  never  tasted  whisky ;  this  for  a  kiltie  is  unusual ; 
he  always  drank  champagne,  a  bottle  every  day  at 


A  MIXED  BAG  343 

dinner.  He  was  a  temperate  man,  I  have  never  seen 
him  unduly  elated.  He  was  a  good  shot,  and  staying 
with  the  De  Crespignys  at  Champion  Lodge,  when  Sir 
Claude  gave  two  silver  cups  for  the  best  pigeon  shots, 
it  worked  out  as  below  : 


Won 


Highlander,     (S»" 

Guards         .   ("S- ri^'"'^''T^r       ■ 

\K.  Champion  de  Crespigny 

Rifles  i  ^^^  ^'  Troubridge,  Bt. 

\Sir  C.  Champion  de  Crespigny,  Bt. 

So  the  mugs  went  North. 

Not  long  before  Lord  Kinnoull  died  he  gave  me  an 
order  for  the  Strangers'  Gallery  in  the  House  of  Lords 
for  a  special  debate  I  was  anxious  to  hear,  and  over 
which  there  was  a  good  deal  of  feeling.  My  son  and  I 
were  hooted  at  as  we  drove  to  the  House,  being  taken 
possibly  for  some  member  to  whom  the  crowd  objected. 
When  we  arrived  my  son  was  taken  to  the  Strangers' 
Gallery,  but  owing  to  Suffragettes  having  lately  made 
a  scene  from  it,  orders  had  been  issued  no  woman 
was  to  be  allowed  in  it  again,  so  I  was  taken  to  a  comer 
close  to  the  members  on  the  floor  of  the  House,  where 
I  saw  and  heard  everything  I  wished  to  see  and  hear. 

When  it  became  time  to  turn  homewards,  I  had  to 
return  by  myself,  having  lost  sight  of  my  son.  To 
my  dismay  I  found  the  rather  misty  evening  in  which 
we  had  arrived  had  now  developed  into  a  dense  fog. 
There  was  no  chance  of  people  getting  their  own 
cars,  and  someone  standing  near  the  door  advised 
my  jumping  into  the  first  thing  that  came  up;  it  hap- 
pened to  be  the  Duke  of  Wellington's  car,  but  his 
party  hopped  in  before  I  got  a  chance ;  next  came  a 
hansom  with  an  excited  horse,  into  this  I  half  jumped 
and  was  half  pushed  and  away  we  went.  I  was  by 
way  of  going  to  the  Hotel  Cecil,  but  first  we  ran  into 
some  raihngs,  and  then  on  to  the  pavement  some- 
where, and  whenever  the  driver  tried  to  pull  up  some- 


344     MEMORIES  DISCREET  AND  INDISCREET 

body  either  ran  into  us  behind  and  called  us  names 
or  the  horse  reared  and  tried  to  turn  round. 

The  traprdoor  on  the  top  of  the  hansom  was  opened 
and  I  was  informed  the  driver  had  no  idea  where  he 
was  and  the  horse  was  a  beast,  and  he  advised  me  to 
get  out  before  we  had  an  accident.  This  I  politely 
but  firmly  declined  to  do,  I  had  no  wish  to  be  left  in 
the  fog  alone  without  any  idea  where  I  was.  The 
cabman  became  piqued  and  said  something  about 
**  taking  the  consequences  '' ;  so  we  lurched  about  a 
little  longer  shouting  to  other  vehicle  drivers  to  ask 
where  we  were — nobody  knew,  wanted  to  know  them- 
selves badly. 

At  last  a  policeman  with  a  flare  light  came  to  ask 
what  we  were  doing  and  why  we  did  it.  We  now 
found  we  were  amongst  the  trees  in  the  vicinity  of 
the  Bird  Cage  Walk.  Towards  morning  the  fog  lifted 
a  little  and  with  the  help  of  a  policeman  or  two  I 
arrived  once  more  at  my  hotel,  very  cold,  and  the 
cabman  requesting  exorbitant  payment  after  keeping 
him  all  night !  My  son  had  just  arrived  before  me  and 
was  wondering  what  had  happened  and  where  to  go 
and  look  for  me. 

There  are  still  many  old  friends  and  acquaintances 
crowding  my  memory,  amongst  them  Sir  Charles 
Dilke,  a  great  man  on  the  river,  where  I  first  met  him ; 
he  was  an  enthusiastic  oarsman.  I  believe  he  was 
coached  by  the  ex-champion  sculler  W.  G.  East,  now 
Barge  Master  to  the  King,  as  he  was  to  King  Edward. 
Mr.  East  also  taught  the  present  Prince  of  Wales  to 
row  and  swim.  Two  or  three  days  a  week  Mr.  East 
used  to  go  from  his  home  at  Richmond  to  Shepperton, 
where  Sir  Charles  Dilke  had  a  beautiful  place  called 
Dochetts  Eddy,  and  here  these  two  in  the  early 
morning  went  off  regularly  in  a  double  sculler  away 
up  the  river  for  a  long  pull.  Sir  Charles  loved  the 
exercise  and,  no  matter  how  late  the  sitting  had  been 
in  Parliament  or  elsewhere,  he  was  never  late  for  this 
morning  recreation  on  the  river.  On  their  return  to 
the  landing-stage,  each  would  slip  off  his  flannels  and. 


A  MIXED  BAG  345 

diving  side  by  side  into  the  river,  swim  across  and 
back,  this  acting  as  a  shower  bath  after  the  morning's 
work. 

The  King's  Barge  Master,  who,  I  believe,  still  lives  at 
Richmond,  has  trained  many  winners  for  the  Diamonds 
at  Henley,  including,  I  think,  the  present  Lord  Iveagh, 
at  whose  wedding  Mr.  East  asked  for  and  received 
permission  to  use  the  King's  Watermen  to  line  up 
outside  the  porch  of  the  church  with  the  royal  oars  to 
make  the  customary  archway.  When  last  I  heard  of 
Mr.  East  he  owned  a  riverside  hotel  called  "  The 
Three  Pigeons,"  the  freehold  of  which  was,  I  think, 
given  to  him  by  Lord  Iveagh  with  £100  a  year  for  life  in 
remembrance  of  his  training  when  in  1895  he  won  the 
Henley  Diamonds,  a  victory  he  repeated  the  next  year. 

I  never  liked  Sir  Charles  Dilke,  he  had  a  peculiar 
way  of  looking  at  one  from  under  his  lowered  brows 
that  was  not  pleasing  ;  I  did  not  like  his  manner 
with  women,  and  I  did  not  like  his  disloyalty,  the  way 
he  used  to  allude  both  in  print  and  out  of  it  to  the 
Royal  Family  ;  besides  he  was  not  at  all  exact  in 
many  of  his  statements,  which  was  misleading.  At 
one  time  he  was  an  avowed  Republican,  yet  from 
1880  to  1882  he  was  Under-Secretary  of  State,  and 
President  of  the  Local  Government  Board  from  1882 
to  1885. 

In  1885  came  the  famous  divorce  suit — Crawford 
versus  Crawford  and  Dilke,  owing  to  which  he  dropped 
out  of  social  life,  but  continued  to  use  his  pen.  King 
Edward  VII  liked  him  and  was  friendly  towards  him 
until  the  scandal.  I  remember  there  were  some 
references  in  the  case  to  Sir  Charles  being  seen  by  a 
milkman  climbing  down  from  a  balcony  in  the  early 
dawn,  which  resulted  in  some  absurd  comic  song, 
something  about 

"  Charlie  Dilke  he  spilt  the  milk 
Coming  home  from  Chelsea ; 
The  ladies  say  that  Charlie's  gay  " — 

and  something  else — I  forget  the  rest,  but  it  was 
amusing  and  I  know  he  chuckled  over  it  himself. 


346     MEMORIES  DISCREET  AND  INDISCREET 

The  house  in  Sloane  Street  with  the  httle  portico  over 
the  doorway  with  windows  looking  on  the  street 
which  was  mentioned  at  the  case,  remains,  I  beheve, 
unlet.  An  agent  in  the  street  offered  it  to  some  friends 
of  mine  at  a  low  rent  because  he  said  nobody  would 
take  it  now.  I  wonder  if  the  house  hunters  thought 
the  place  would  contaminate  them  ! 

What  a  wonderfully  young  old  man  Sir  Spencer 
Ponsonby-Fane  was.  Up  to  the  time  of  his  death  he 
travelled  up  and  down  to  town  every  week  from 
Brympton  in  Somersetshire.  Such  a  dear  picturesque 
place  with  its  ivy-clad  chapel  standing  in  the  grounds 
close  to  the  house.  He  was  a  delightful  companion, 
full  of  anecdote,  and  took  pleasure  in  his  collections, 
of  which  he  had  a  variety.  He  showed  me  with  pride 
his  wonderful  collection  of  buckles  of  all  ages  and 
many  histories.  Also  a  large  collection  of  spear- 
heads, I  think  they  are  called,  belonging  to  the 
"  Friendly  Societies."  Nothing  pleased  him  better 
than  to  have  one  given  to  him  that  he  did  not  already 
possess. 

One  of  a  large  family  with  ancient  traditions  and 
some  of  them  with  courtly  manners  ;  Sir  Spencer 
being  one  of  the  good-mannered  ones.  In  1857  he 
was  appointed  Comptroller  and  Gentleman  Usher  to 
the  Royal  Household,  which  post  he  held  for  many 
years.  No  one  could  compete  with  him  in  matters  of 
precedent  and  royal  etiquette. 

He  was  apt  to  be  impatient  with  people  who  differed 
from  him,  whose  views  were  not  in  accordance  with 
his  own,  and  not  a  great  favourite  at  Court  in  conse- 
quence. Truth  went  so  far  as  to  say  Queen  Victoria 
disliked  him  and  that  more  than  once  only  the  tact 
and  good  humour  of  his  cousin  Sir  Henry  Ponsonby 
prevented  serious  trouble.  I  hardly  think  this  is  true, 
or  why  should  the  Queen  have  wished  him  to  have  her 
walking-stick  as  a  remembrance  of  her  ?  I  have  seen 
the  stick  at  Brympton,  it  is  a  valued  possession. 

Since  I  have  taken  to  writing  books  and  for  the 
papers  and  magazines  I  have  found  still  more  kind 


A  MIXED  BAG  347 

friends  amongst  the  editors  and  publishers,  all  ready 
to  help  me.  Sir  Willoughby  Maycock,  who  wrote  that 
interesting  book  With  Mr.  Chamberlain  in  the  United 
States,  has  often  been  most  helpful,  as  indeed  have 
many  others.  Sir  Claude  de  Crespigny,  Mr.  Meyrick, 
and  relatives  of  those  I  have  mentioned  in  this  and 
other  books,  as  in  several  instances  I  was  not  sure  of 
my  dates  until  they  kindly  verified  my  remembrances. 

Mr.  Burton  Balding,  late  editor  of  Fry's  Magazine, 
always  held  out  a  hand  to  me,  and  before  the  War 
wanted  me  to  start  a  Women's  Sports  Magazine  and 
edit  it  in  conjunction  with  him.  He  is  now  of  course  a 
soldier.    I  hope  he  still  finds  time  to  write  little  lyrics. 

I  lay  down  my  pen  with  regret.  I  have  enjoyed 
my  chats  with  my  old  friends,  whom  I  have  not  half 
exhausted.  I  hope  to  introduce  some  of  them  in  another 
form,  and  under  a  different  heading  by  and  by. 


INDEX 


Abdul,  Indian  servant,  156-8 
Abercorn,  Duchess  of,  143 
Abercorn,  Duke  of,  143 
Abu  Klea,  battle  of,  55-7 
Adams,  V.C,  Rev.  J.  W.,  156 
Afghan  War,  114,  162 
Airlie,  Lord,  172,  199 
Alexander,    King   of   Serbia,    49-51, 

Alexandra,    Queen- Mother,    38,    39, 

131,  132,  281 
Altham,  Graf  von,  134 
Arbuthnot,  General,   184,   185,   188, 

189 
Ardagh,  General  Sir  John — 
anecdotes  of,  225-9 
as  arbiter,  233,  234 
in  command  at  base  of  Nile  Ex- 
pedition, 229 
Head  of  Military  Intelligence  De- 
partment in  South  African  War, 
231,  232 
a  man  of  many  parts,  224,  230, 

231.  234 

his  marriage,  231 

prophesies  future  greatness  of 
Kitchener,  G.  Portal  and  Baden- 
Powell,  196 

represents  England  at  Hague  Con- 
ference in  1899,  231 

as  worker,  224,  232 

Baden-Powell,  Sir  Robert,  196 
Baker,  General  Valentine.  125,  191-5. 

226,  239 
Balding,  Burton,  347 
Baring,  Lady,  192,  196 
Bell,  Mr.  Moberly,  218-23 
Bell,  Mrs.  Moberly,  219 
Benedict,  Sir  Juhus,  33-5 
Beresford,  Lord,  57,  137,  220,  228 
Beresford,  Lord  William,  210,  233, 

335 
Bewicke-Copley,  General,  331,  332 
Binning,  Lord,  56,  57 
BlUcher,  Prince,  196,  238,  239 
Brabazon,  Colonel,  89,  172,  340-2 
Bradford,  Sir  Edward,  299-304,  318 
Brownlow,  Colonel,  123 


Buller,  Sir  Red  vers,  198 
Burnaby,  Colonel  Fred.,  52-60 
Butler,  Captain  H.,  245,  246 

Cambridge,  Duke  of,   55,   194,  205, 

231,  304 
Cameron,     Mr.,     Correspondent     of 

Standard,  254,  255 
Campbell,  Sir  Colin,  76,  77 
Campbell,  Sir  Wm.  Pitcairn,  316 
Cardigan,  Lord,  291,  292,  339,  340 
Cavagnari,  Lady,  112,  113 
Cavendish,  Lord  Frederick,  276,  280, 

307 
Chalmers,  Captain  George,  47 
Chamberlain,  Joseph,  309 
Chamberlain,   Sir  Neville,   314,   315, 

318-20 
Chermside,  Captain,  226 
Chetwynd,  Sir  George,  288 
Chichester,  Bishop  of,  279,  280 
Clarence,  late  Duke  of,  281,  301 
Clarke,  Colonel  Stanley,  215,  281 
Cleland.  Lieut.-Colonel.  118 
Clements,   Rev.   and   Hon.   Francis, 

12,  13 
Colley,  General,  90-3.  95.  9^ 
Condor,  Mr.,  198 
Connaught,  Duke  of,  206 
Cowper-Coles,  Captain,  27-30 
Crespigny,  Sir  Claude  de,    16,    177, 

178.  343.  347 
Cromer,  Lord — 

affectionate  father,  238 

appoints  Sir  G.  Portal  to  Mission 

to  Abyssinia, 2 40 
considered  Sir  G.  Portal's  death  a 

loss  to  the  nation,  249 
his  courtesy  and  kindness,  235 
his  death  in  harness,  237 
difficulties     in     connection     with 

relief  of  Gordon,  236,  237 
his  enjoyment  of  a  joke,  238,  239 
first  shows  his  ability  as  financier, 

235 
his   genius    at    discovering    hard- 
working and  clever  people,  236 
joins  the  Artillery  at  eighteen,  235 
Kitchener's  loyalty  to,  205 


349 


350    MEMORIES  DISCREET  AND  INDISCREET 


Cromer,  Lord — 

makes  Sir  G.  Portal  Consul-General 

at  Zanzibar,  245 
Minister  of  Finance  in  India,  235 
shares   with   Lord    Kitchener   the 

reputation    of    being    maker    of 

Egypt,  204,  235 
trains  Sir  G.  Portal  in  hopes  of  his 

becoming  his  successor,  244 
uses    influence    to    get    Kitchener 

appointed  Sirdar,  204 
Cunyngham,  Dick,  120,  126 

Dilke,  Sir  Charles,  344,  345 
Dodsworth,  Sir  Charles,  40,  41 
Dormer,  General,  225 
Douglas,  General  Sir  Charles — 

Adjutant  to  Gordon  Highlanders 
at  Sitapur,  89,  100 

his  career,  loi 

his    death    from    perpetual    over- 
work, 10 1 

difficulties    as    Adjutant-General, 
104 

goes  in  for  banting,  105,  106 

a  hard  worker,  224 

his  marriage,  106 

his  relations  with  Lord  Kitchener, 
103 

his  unpopularity,  loi,  102 
Draga,  Queen,  49-51,  136 
Dufierin  and  Ava,  Marquess  of,  124 
Dupplin,  Lord,  148,  149,  150,  151 

East,    W.    G.,    Barge-Master   to   the 

King,  344.  345 
Edward  VII— 

asks  Sir  E.  Bradford  to  accompany 

Duke  of  Clarence  to  India,  301 
his  button- hole,  152,  153 
conversation  with  authoress,  152 
his  coronation,  302 
genius    for    remembering     names 

and  faces,  314 
and  Girton  (Mr.  C.  Sykes's  valet), 

20 
and  Kirby,  the  horse-dealer,  292, 

293 
receives     first     military     training 

under  General  V.  Baker,  193 
staunchness  to  General  V.  Baker, 

194 
tour  in  N.W.  Provinces,  300,  301 
visits  Lord  Dupplin,  151 
Elisabeth,  late  Empress  of  Austria, 

127-36.  139.  141.  145 
Ewart,  General  Sir  John,  74-82,  313 

Fisher,  Lord,  340 

Foote,  Col.  Barrington,  228 


Forbes,  Archibald,  218,  252 

Franz     Joseph,     late     Emperor     of 

Austria,  128,  133-6,  146 
Frere,  Sir  Bartle,  300,  301 

Garibaldi,  58-60 

Girton,    valet    to    Mr.    Christopher 

Sykes,  19-22 
Gladstone,  W.  E.,  275,  306,  307 
Gordon,  General,  180,  183,  205,  236, 

237 
Gough,  General  Hugh,  119 
Grant,  Hilda,  152,  153 
Grant,  Richard,  152,  153 
Granville,  Lord,  205 
Greaves,  General  Sir  George,  190,  191 
Grenfell,  General,  225 
Griffin,  Lepel,  173 

Haines,  Sir  Frederick,  159 
Hamilton,  General  Sir  Ian — 

considered  it  a  pleasure  to  work 

under  Lord  Kitchener,  205 
cultured  language  of  reports  of,  88 
a  favourite  of  Lord  Roberts,  89, 

314 
great  student  of  modern  military 

history,  99 
invalided  after  Majuba,  96 
terrible    experiences    on    Majuba 

Hill,  90-5 
thanks  General  Park  for  splendid 
work  of  Devons  at  Wagon  Hill, 
320 
Harcourt,  Archbishop,  66 
Harcourt,  Sir  William,  296,  307-9 
Harrington,  Colonel,  215 
Harvey,    Colonel   George,    191,    192, 

239 
Haweis.  Rev.  H.  R.,  257,  265-70 
Hay,  Frances,  148,  153 
Hicks  Pasha,  236 

Ingram,  Walter,  137,  138,  215,  230 

Jenner,  Lady,  176 

John,  King  of  Abyssinia,  240,  243 

Kenyon,  Lord,  16 

King  -  Harman,      Colonel     Edward, 

335-9 
Kinnoull,  late  Earl  of,  148,  153,  190, 

215,  216,  342,  343 
Kinsky,  Prince,  128,  130,  139,  144-7 
Kirby,  the  horse-dealer,  292,  293 
Kitchener,  Earl — 

adventures  of  his  youth,  207 

his  appointment  as  Sirdar  much 
criticized,  204 

belief  current  that  he  still  survives, 
208 


INDEX 


351 


Kitchener,  Earl — 

consideration  for  his  chauffeur,  208 
deeply  rehgious,  209 
disappointment  at  not  being  em- 
ployed after  return  from  India, 

206 
exploration  and  research  work  in 

Palestine,  198 
future  greatness  prophesied  by  Sir 

J.  Ardagh  in  1885,  196 
and  Greek  merchant,  199 
hospitality  memorable,  208 
and  impudent  subaltern,  200 
his  kindness  and  sympathy,  210 
his  life  in  peril  several  times,  207 
looked  well  in  tarboosh,  190 
his  love  of  animals,  208 
personal  characteristics,   197,  208, 

209 
playing  with  toy  soldiers,  201,  202 
preference   for   Oriental   life,   200, 

201 
recalled  from  Egypt  on  outbreak 

of  Great  War,  207 
relations  with  Sir  C.  Douglas,  103 
shared      reputation      with      Lord 

Cromer  of  making  Egypt,  204 
splendid  work  for  relief  of  Gordon, 

205,  237 
his  statue  erected  in  Calcutta,  210 
victim  of  practical  joke  by  Sir  G. 

Portal,  202-4 

Lascelles,  Captain  9th  Lancers,  142 
Lawley,  Sir  Arthur,  43 
Leigh,  Captain  Sir  Chandos,  143,  144 
Lesseps,     Viscount     Ferdinand     de, 

67-70.  156 
Londonderry,  Lady,  17,  287 
Londonderry,   5th  Marquess  of,    18, 

19.  286 
Lowe,  Colonel,  116 
Lowther,  Mr.  James,  20,  283-91 
Luccheni,  anarchist,  135 
Ludwig  II  of  Bavaria,  129 
Lumley,  Augustus  Savile,  180,  181 
Lyall,  Lady,  162,  164 
Lyall,  Sir  Alfred,  162-4 
Lytton,  Lord,  173 

Macdonald,  General  Hector,  208 
Majuba  Hill,  90-7,  127,  253 
Manning,  Cardinal,  61-5,  258 
Maycock,  Sir  Willoughby,  347 
Mayo,  Lord,  174 
Mecklenburg-Schwerin,  Duchess  Paul 

of,  132 
Middleton,  Captain  W.  G.,  128,  130, 

131,  136,  13^46 
Millais,  Sir  John,  336 


Napier,  Hon.  John  Scott,  107,  126 
Newman,  Cardinal.  65,  258 
Northclifie,  Lord,  221 

Owen,  Major  R.,  246,  247 

Paget,  Lord  Alfred,  26 

Park,  General  Cecil,  67,  320-6 

Parnell,  Charles  Stewart,  272-6,  334, 

338 
Pease,  Sir  Joseph,  293,  294 
Ponsonby-Fane,  Sir  Spencer,  346 
Portal,  Sir  Gerald- 
appointed  by  Lord  Cromer  to  carry 
out    special    Mission    to    Abys- 
sinia, 240-3 
as  Consul-General  at  Zanzibar,  243 
death  at  age  of  thirty-six,  248 
expedition  to  Abyssinia,  240-3 
kindness  to  authoress,  211 
personal  characteristics,  243,  244 
plays     practical     joke     on     Lord 

Kitchener,  202-4 
referred  to  by  Sir  John  Ardagh  as 

coming  man,  196,  197 
takes    entire   charge    in    Cairo    in 

absence  of  Lord  Cromer,  240 
treated  by  Lord  Cromer  as  a  son, 

239 
tributes  paid  to  by  Lords  Cromer, 

Salisbury,  and  Rosebery,  249 
undertakes  important  Mission  to 
Uganda,  243-8 
Portal,  Captain  Raymond,  246-9 
Prior,  Melton — 

his  amusing  stories,  216,  250,  251, 

254.  255 
as  artist,  252 

belonged  to  adventurous  school  of 

correspondents,  252 
description  of,  250 
expenditure  ais  war  correspondent, 

255.  256 

experiences  at  Majuba  Hill,  90,  253 
impressions  of   Kumassie  and  Is- 

andlwana,  251,  252 
indignation  with  autograph  hunter, 

217 
and  Lord  Wolseley,  230 
narrow  escape  from  drowning,  252, 

253 
and  Prince  Imperial,  254 
his   version   of   death    of   Colonel 

Burnaby,  56 

Raglan,  Lord,  76 

Rhodes,  Cecil,  332-5 

Rhodes,  Colonel,  246 

Richmond  and  Gordon,  Duke  of,  155, 

285 


352    MEMORIES  DISCREET  AND  INDISCREET 


Ridgeway,  Lady,  172,  276-82 
Ridgeway,  Sir  West,  126,   172,  279, 

2  So 
Ripon,  Lord,  123,  163,  173 
Roberts,  Earl — 

care  for  baggage  animals,  116,  117 
chivalry    to    Lady    Stewart,    175, 

176,  314 
courtesy  to  all  alike,  315,  316 
death  in  France,  318 
devotion  of  Sir  Neville  Chamber- 
lain to,  314 
dislike  of  cats,  317 
escape  from  death  at  Lucknow,  313 
his  favourites,  314 
friendship  for  Sir  G.  White,  86 
genius  for  remembering  names  and 

faces,  315 
procures  appointment  of  Captain 
Stewart  to  Police  in  West  Africa, 
178 
his  prophecy  of  Great  War,  206 
reference  to  death  of  Lieut. -Col. 

Cleland,  118 
self-sacrificing     devotion     of     Sir 

Donald  Stewart  to,  173 
his    sympathy    and    kindness    of 

heart,  126,  314,  315-7 
unveils   Memorial   to    Sir   Donald 
Stewart,  179 
Robertson,  Sir  William,  52 
Roe,  Dr.,  121,  122 
Rosebery,  Larl,  249,  309 
Rudolph,  late  Archduke  of  Austria, 
133-7 

Salisbury,  Bishop  of,  279 

Salisbury,  the  late  Marquess  of,  193, 

240,  249 
Smith-Dorrien,  General  Sir  H.,  340 
Spencer,  Lord,  128,  129,  144,  275,  306 
Stanton,  Father,  64,  257-265 
Steevens,  G.  W.,  208,  324 
Stephanie  of  Coburg,  Princess,   134, 

135 
Stewart,   Field-Marshal  Sir   Donald, 

122,  172-5,  179,  314 
Stewart,   Captain   Sir   Donald,    174, 

177-9 
Stewart,  Lady,  175-7,  314 
Strathnairn,  Lord,  141 
Stratton,  Captain,  123 
Sufifield,  Lord,  25,  26 
Sykes,  Mr.  Christopher,  19-22 

Teck,  late  Duchess  of,  18 
Tel-el-Kebir,  battle  of,  228,  229 


Tennyson,  the  late  Lord,  164,  265-7, 

270-2 
Thomson,  Wm.,  Archbishop  of  York, 

142 
Tweedale,  Mrs.,  47-51 

Vetochera,  Baroness  Marie,  135 
Victoria,  Queen — 

and  cripple,  311 

funeral  of,  302 

holds  Drawing  Room,  38 

Jubilee  of,  134 

left    her    walking-stick    to    Sir    S. 
Ponsonby-Fane,  346 

message  to  Sir  G,  White,  324 

nervous  on  Constitution  Hill,  306 

thanks  Sir  E.  Bradford  for  services, 
302 
Vincent,  Sir  Howard,  304-10 

Wenlock,  Lord,  42,  43 
Whewell,  Dr.,  267,  268 
White,  Field-Marshal  Sir  George — 
addresses      Gordon      Highlanders 
after   their   return   from    South 
Africa  in  1881,  155 
anecdotes  of,  87 
in  battle  outside  Kandahar,   120, 

122 
his  hospitality  and  kindness,  85, 

86 
praised  for  way  of  giving  orders, 

125 
rides  in  same  race  as  his  son,  87 
thanks  General  Park  for  splendid 
work  of  Devons  on  Wagon  Hill, 
320.  323 
travels   from   Simla   to   Kabul   in 
four  days,  123 
White,  Lady,  85,  86,  88 
Wilkinson,  General  Harry,  124 
William  II,  German  Emperor,  137 
William,     German     Crown     Prince, 

327-30 
Williams,  Sir  Monier,  113 
Wilson,  Sir  Charles,  57 
Wolseley,   Lord,   57,   205,   207,   229, 

230,  251 
Wombwell,  Sir  George,  291-3 
Wood,    Colonel    loth   Hussars,    172, 

195 
Worsley,  Sir  William,  40,  41,  336 
Wynn,  Sir  Watkin,  133 

Zanzibar,  245 
Zebehr,  Pasha,  237 


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